Not for Anything: Attack of the Dementors
by Penitent Rebel
Summary: Part Three of the "Not for Anything" series. AU. James Potter is alive and raising Harry. Goes through Harry's third year at Hogwarts. Rated T.
1. Midnight Memories

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone you recognize._

_Warning: This chapter is kind of intense. Get tissues if you think you'll need them. I really wanted to see if I could write a scene like this well, so please review and let me know how you think I did. Thanks!_

_Author's Note: This was in my head and kind of spilled out. I'm nearly done with the first one, and I want to assure everyone that I'll finish it, most likely by the end of the week, but I wanted so badly to go ahead and post this. I hope I'm not stretching myself too thin by trying to do two at once, but now that I've had time to think about where I want number three to go, I'm really excited about it and eager to start._

* * *

"See you later, mate," James Potter told his best friend, Sirius Black. The two of them were standing in Sirius's living room. Both of them wore the strained expressions of people who were living in constant fear. James would very much have liked to stay longer. He had laughed that evening for the first time in a long while. James was currently in hiding with his wife, Lily, and his year-old son, Harry. They couldn't even work, and James was going stir-crazy. It had been Lily's idea for him to take an evening away, but now he could only think about going home to his wife and child. Harry would be going to bed soon, and he wanted to be there to kiss the boy goodnight.

"Take care, Prongs," Sirius said. The two men shook hands and then pulled one another into an awkward embrace. They didn't know how long it would be before they'd be seeing one another again, or if they ever would. James Potter was a marked man, and it was likely only a matter of time before Sirius would be as well. When they had released one another, James spun on the spot and disappeared with a pop. He reappeared in a small yard in a tiny village called Godric's Hollow.

The acrid smell of smoke accosted his nostrils, and he felt his breath hitch. He turned, his eyes wide, and saw the thing he had feared over all else. In the air above his home floated a glowing emblem: a glittering skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth. James stared at it, trying to will it to go away. Then he dropped his gaze to the house. The entire top floor was blown away. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been there, and James had been gone. He hadn't even been here to protect his wife and his son. He heard a loud, almost inhuman, wail split the night, and he had fallen to his knees before he realized it had come from him. He heard himself screaming as though it were coming from somewhere very far away.

Lily was gone. Harry was gone. He knew better than to hold out hope that they may have survived. You-Know-Who never left survivors.

James dropped to his hands and retched onto the ground, gasping for air. That was when the sobs came; huge wracking things that he thought would shatter his body into tiny shards. He almost wished they would. Thoughts shot through his head at lightning speed. He thought of Harry racing through the house on a toy broomstick that Sirius had given him, laughing, his green eyes bright. He thought of Lily gardening, her red hair shining in the sunlight. He thought of Lily singing lullabies as she rocked Harry to sleep, and the way that Harry would reach up and grab a fistful of her hair. At first, James had tried to make him stop, but Lily assured him that Harry never pulled. "He just likes to hold it," she said, smiling. "He's such a sweet baby."

He had been such a sweet baby, and such a happy baby, and now he was... dead. James forced himself to think the word. Harry was dead. He would never grow up. He would never fall in love, or find his calling, or have children of his own. He would never know the happiness James himself had known these past few years, but that had been yanked away from him this night.

James had already imagined a full life for his son. He envisioned himself buying the boy his first firewhiskey on his seventeenth birthday. He imagined watching him raise Cain at Hogwarts and pretending to scold while really being proud that his son was following in his father's mischievous footsteps. He imagined the boy falling in love and learning life's lessons and he, James, would be there to bear witness to every moment. Now he grieved not only for his own loss, but for the life that had been stolen from Harry. It seemed so unfair for other people to have years, endless time, so much time that they got bored, and his son had had only a little more than a year. His life hadn't even begun and already it had been ripped from him.

James thought briefly of his parents and wished they were still alive. He had lost them both just this past winter. His mother had died first, and then his father had just wasted away, as though he had given up his will to live. He had survived only slightly longer than a month without his wife. At the time, James had been furious at the old man for losing his will to live, but now he understood. What kept a man alive when he had lost everything worth living for?

James felt as though he were falling through an endless sky, with dark, angry clouds all around him. He couldn't find anything to hold him to the earth. He briefly wondered if this was what going mad felt like. He didn't even know what he ought to do now. Maybe he would move to America and start again. Maybe he would become a hermit and spend the rest of his days muttering in a cave somewhere. Maybe he would off himself and be done with this whole business. Maybe he wouldn't have to kill himself: maybe this crippling grief would do it for him. Surely a man couldn't survive long with this much pain. It was almost a hopeful idea, this prayer to die, to join Lily and Harry.

Then his mind fell onto a single thought: revenge. He was going to find Peter Pettigrew and kill him. He didn't care what happened to him after that. Let them chuck him to the dementors for all he cared. Even they couldn't hurt him now. The thought of killing Peter gave James the tiniest of lifelines. He was still falling, but now, at the very least, he had a destination: something to cling to. Suddenly, strong hands gripped his shoulders.

"James?" He heard Sirius ask. "James, are you hurt?"

Curled in on himself in a tight ball on the ground, James could not answer. He only wailed. Sirius let go and left. James didn't know where he had gone and didn't care. All he knew was that he was alone and always would be. He should never have gone to Sirius's house, he told himself. He should have been here to protect Lily and Harry. He knew then that it was his fault they had died and that he would never forgive himself, no matter how long he might live. He would not be offing himself, he decided. He deserved to live a long life alone with his guilt: that would be the punishment for his selfishness.

Somewhere in the night, he heard a baby cry. He cringed at the sound. How dare this stranger child have the audacity to cry when his dear Harry would never make a sound again? James's wailing redoubled. He would never hear Lily's beautiful voice again, so sweet and tinkling, like bells. He would never again hear Harry's laugh that could soothe the soul. Sirius was there next to him again, shaking him. "James," Sirius said. "James, you have to get up."

"They're gone, Sirius. Lily and Harry are gone. Dead." James choked out.

"No, mate," Sirius said. "Harry's alive."

James opened his eyes and looked. There, in Sirius's arms, wrapped in Harry's embroidered blue blanket, was a baby. "Look, James, Harry's survived," Sirius whispered.

"That's not possible." James gasped, his tears diminishing. He sat up slowly. "It's a trick." James did not dare to hope that Harry might have survived. He did not know what his friend was playing at, but that baby was not Harry. It couldn't be. Slowly, he realized that Sirius would not play a trick like this. He stared at the bundle. The baby was struggling to get to James and crying, his green eyes bright. That was what finally convinced James that it really was Harry. No one else save Lily had such bright green eyes.

"What about Lily?" James whispered. If Harry had survived, maybe that meant Lily had, too. One look at Sirius's face told him all he needed to know.

"I'm so sorry, James." Sirius whispered, tears in his own eyes.

James reached out and took his son. The familiar little body in his arms was a comfort he never expected to feel again.

Harry stopped crying the moment he was in James's arms. He wrapped his little arms around James's neck. "Jaze!" Harry said, and James renewed his sobs. Lily had never gotten used to referring to him as "Dad," so Harry had begun calling him "James", or, rather, "Jaze". He always assumed he would begin insisting on "Dad" when Harry got old enough to be able to understand the difference.

When James had slowed his weeping, he had a look at Harry. James did as he had done when the mediwitch handed Harry to him mere moments after he was born. He counted fingers and toes. He stared in awe at the tiny, helpless, perfect person in his arms. He looked into Harry's eyes. As far as he could tell, Harry was unhurt with the exception of a lighting-bolt shaped cut on his forehead. As soon as James saw the cut, he knew the boy was scarred for life.

When he had assured himself that Harry was whole, all thoughts of revenge left his brain. He made up his mind then as to what he would do; he would do whatever he had to do to keep his Harry safe. He would stop hiding, he would become an auror, and he would spend the rest of his life making the world safer for his precious son.

"Come on," Sirius said, helping James to his feet. "You're staying at my place tonight. We'll figure out what to do tomorrow."

James nodded. "What happened here?" He asked, holding Harry tightly. "Why would You-Know-Who let Harry live?"

"I don't think it was on purpose," Sirius said. "It's kind of a mess up there. Tomorrow we should go see Dumbledore. Maybe he will know something. In the meantime, you'll be safe at my place, and you need some sleep. I'll take care of everything here."

James nodded. "What am I going to do without Lily?" He asked, his sobs beginning afresh.

Just then there was a crack and Dumbledore himself appeared. Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry, where Sirius and James had both been trained in magic, was the most powerful wizard in Britain, and quite possibly the most powerful in the world. "James," Dumbledore said, frantically, "Bathilda Bagshot said you'd been attacked."

"Lily's dead," Sirius said, placing an arm around James's shoulder.

"And Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"He's fine except for a cut," James whispered.

"May I see him?" Dumbledore asked. James hesitated, holding Harry tightly. He was not eager to give his son up now. "I won't hurt him, I promise," Dumbledore said soothingly. James nodded and handed him over without a word. Finding himself in a stranger's arms, Harry began to wail. James reached out a hand and placed his index finger in Harry's palm. Harry immediately gripped it with his whole hand. That small act of closeness was enough to simultaneously soothe Harry and renew James's sobs. Dumbledore checked the baby over, even placing his wand gently over the cut. "I've never seen anything like this," Dumbledore finally said.

"If you don't mind," Sirius cut in gently, "James and I were just leaving. He needs to rest."

"You should come to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, handing Harry back to his father, who took him quickly and hugged him tight. "You'll be safe there until we can figure out how Voldemort broke your charm."

"I'll tell you how he broke the charm. P-P-Peter P-P-Pettigrew must have told him where to find us." James said, his voice thick with tears. He could barely make his mouth form Peter's name through his gasps. He had been betrayed, and he was too exhausted and too devastated to even be angry.

Sirius gasped. He had obviously not thought of that before. "That rat," Sirius whispered.

"You have to go somewhere safe," Dumbledore said.

"We're going to my house. They'll be safe there." Sirius replied.

"No," Dumbledore insisted, "Come to Hogwarts."

"No!" Sirius snapped. "He's coming with me."

"Do not think that he is safe from further attacks just because this one failed. Voldemort will come again."

"Then let him come!" Sirius shouted. "I'll be ready."

Then he grabbed James's arm and, a split second later, Sirius, James, and Harry all three disappeared with a loud "pop" leaving Dumbledore standing alone in front of the burning shards of James Potter's ruined dreams.

* * *

Twelve years later, James Potter lay awake in bed, having just awakened from a nightmare about his wife's death. After so many years, he would have thought he'd be rid of them. At first, he had them every night; but it had been years since he'd had one, until now. There was little doubt in his mind as to why they had reappeared. Peter Pettigrew had escaped from Azkaban, the wizard's prison, at the beginning of the summer, and James had been working himself nearly to death trying to catch him and make sure he went back there. James rose from his bed and went to his son's room. Harry was fast asleep. He had just turned thirteen the day before and was exhausted from the excitement of the party James had thrown him. As he had done so many times before, James grieved for the loss Harry had suffered the night his mother died.

Lily had been such a beautiful mother. She had been a natural at it, always knowing just what to do. When she died, James had had no idea what to do with Harry. Most days, he still didn't. There were days when he didn't know how Harry had managed to grow into such a wonderful person. Everyone always told him he was a good father, but he didn't always believe it. He constantly worried and second-guessed himself about his parenting. Yet, Harry was brave and strong and good. James couldn't imagine being more proud of him. He had once told Sirius that his life goal was to grow up to be like Harry.

James was frightened for Harry, more frightened than he was letting on to the boy. He had deliberately kept his son in the dark about the nature of Peter Pettigrew's crime, telling him only those details that had been released to the public. Harry didn't know that Peter had once been his father's friend, or that he had been the one who betrayed the Potters to Voldemort that night twelve years ago. He knew that Peter had killed twelve muggles, but didn't know that he had done so in an attempt to frame Sirius for his own betrayal. He didn't know that the aurors had reason to believe Peter might be coming after him. He didn't know that, right now, two trained aurors were outside guarding this very house in case he did. He didn't know that James was considering keeping him home from school because he feared how easy it might be for Peter to find him there. Harry didn't know any of this, and James intended to keep it that way. No thirteen-year-old should have to worry about such things.

James ran his fingers through Harry's messy hair and gently touched the scar on the boy's forehead. He was glad Harry was such a heavy sleeper, like his dad. Lily had been a light sleeper, jerking awake at the smallest sound or the slightest touch. When Harry was about ten months old, he caught an awful cold. There came a night when James couldn't sleep, and he was holding the boy, rocking him, when Harry gave the tiniest cough. A few moments later, Lily came running in to check on him. Somehow, through two closed doors, she had heard the cough, awoken, and rushed to her son's side to ensure he was safe. James smiled at the memory.

James pulled a chair next to Harry's bed and watched him sleep. This was something he always did when his insomnia flared. He could do it for hours an end without tiring of it. Harry would probably be embarrassed if he knew, but James didn't care. He was never happier than when he was with Harry, and, despite all his fears and worries, he wouldn't have traded this moment for anything in the world.


	2. Incidents and Accidents

Harry Potter was locked in the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursleys' house in Surrey. The Dursleys were Harry's horrible relatives whom he was visiting with his father, but this afternoon, a young auror had appeared in a panic on the doorstep of the Dursleys' home to inform him that Peter Pettigrew had been spotted in Godric's Hollow. No one knew how Pettigrew had managed to escape from Azkaban; he was the first person to have ever done it. The magical community was in an uproar. James, in particular, was more agitated than Harry had ever seen him, and Harry couldn't for the life of him figure out why. He had been fighting dark wizards for years, and never before had he taken such a personal interest in a case.

"Peter Pettigrew?" Harry's uncle, Vernon, asked. "Isn't he that bloke they've been talking about on the news? He's one of your lot?"

"Yes," James replied. "I have to go."

"What was he in for?" Harry's humongous cousin, Dudley, asked.

"He murdered twelve people, and was involved in a plot to murder three others. Two of them escaped," James said shortly before pulling Harry aside. "I'll come back as soon as I can," he said softly.

"You can't leave me here with them!" Harry said, slightly panicked.

"You'll be fine. I'll be back before you know it. Lock yourself in your room if you can't stand them. Just please behave yourself."

"I always behave myself," Harry snapped. After a particularly stern look from James, Harry deflated a bit. "All right, I usually behave myself. And I will today. I promise."

"Good, I really will try to be quick. Hopefully they'll understand about my being on holiday."

"Dad? Why would Pettigrew go to Godric's Hollow?"

"I don't know," James lied. In truth, he knew exactly why Pettigrew had gone there, but he wasn't about to tell his son about it in the middle of his sister-in-law's living room.

"Be careful," Harry said.

"I will. I love you."

"Love you, too."

James enveloped Harry in a tight embrace and kissed his hair before turning on the spot and disappearing with a loud pop. No less than two seconds later, Harry felt a shove from behind and fell into the open cupboard. He turned just in time to see Dudley close the door with a malicious smile. Harry could hear all three Dursleys laughing on the other side of the door, but they wouldn't let him out no matter how loudly he banged and bellowed. He wished he had his wand, but it was upstairs in Dudley's second bedroom, where Harry always stayed whenever he came to Surrey. And anyway, he wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school. He also thought wistfully of two mirrors he owned - one that he could use to call his dad and one that he could use to call his best mate, Ron Weasley. He didn't have either of them with him. He'd left his dad's at home and Ron's was upstairs next to his wand. He vowed to start keeping his wand with him at all times, even in Surrey.

Finally, Harry stopped banging and sat down angrily with his back against the door. He knew they'd let him out eventually; they were too frightened of his father not to, but we wished it would be sooner rather than later. Harry had never much liked closed-in spaces. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about it. Instead, he tried to think of funny things.

He thought of his godfather, Sirius, wearing his favorite pair of sunglasses, which happened to be pink with heart-shaped rims. He thought of his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, squabbling with each other over dinner. He thought of the time he had gone to the zoo with Dudley and accidentally set a snake on him. Dudley got so scared he cried and wet himself. That memory was what finally did it. Harry began to laugh. Suddenly, the door opened and he fell backwards onto the floor. He looked up to see his Uncle Vernon standing over him. He scrambled to his feet, being careful to get away from the still-open cupboard. He wasn't particularly interested in going back in. "What are you laughing at, boy?" Vernon asked.

"Dudley," Harry said, unabashed. "I was thinking about the time the snake attacked him at the zoo." Vernon's reaction was predictable. He turned purple and began to sputter. Harry took a step back for good measure. His uncle had never done anything to him except whisper snide insults in his ear when James wasn't listening, but Harry had never purposely goaded him before either.

"You... horrid boy... laughing at... how dare you!" Vernon sputtered. Listening to him try to find his words, Harry bit down hard on his lip so he wouldn't laugh. Vernon obviously thought he cut an impressive figure, but Harry had always found him a bit ridiculous, even when he was small. Despite his attempts to hold it in, a small snicker escaped Harry's mouth. Quaking with rage, Vernon grabbed for Harry and Harry dodged easily, running up the stairs to his room. Vernon charged in right behind him before he could lock the door. "Your father may let you get away with acting like this, but I most certainly will not!" Vernon shouted, a large vein in his neck beginning to bulge. Dudley and Harry's aunt, Petunia, had come up behind Vernon to watch the fun. Dudley looked as though Christmas had come early.

"Don't you dare say a word against my father," Harry shouted.

"I'll say whatever I damn well please in my own home!" Vernon shouted back. "You think we don't know about you? Dudley's told us all about how you bully him."

"What?" Harry shouted, outraged. "I've never touched him! He's the one who bullies me!"

"You liar!" Petunia spat. "Our little Dudders would never hurt a flea!" She put an arm around him protectively. Harry looked back and forth between them, so angry he wasn't even sure what to say.

"You're all mental!" He finally shouted. "Every last one of you!"

"You dare to insult me in my own home!" Vernon shouted.

"Well, I thought somebody ought to!" Harry shouted back. Vernon slapped him, hard, across the face. Harry stared at him, mouth open wide. He seethed with hurt and rage. Vernon put a finger in his face and began to shout again. "Let me tell you something, you little freak--" But Vernon never got farther than that because no sooner had he gotten the word "freak" out of his mouth than his tongue began to swell. Soon, his face began to swell with it, then his whole body. Harry couldn't remember having grabbed his wand, but there it was in his hand. He watched his uncle inflate until eventually he started to float. Petunia grabbed his ankle and tried to pull him down, sobbing loudly. Dudley ran away and tried to hide under his bed, but he was so large he could only get his head under there. Harry pushed past them all and walked away. Petunia grabbed him at the top of the stairs.

"Put him back!" She yelled, hysterical.

"No," Harry told her, spinning around to put his wand in her face. She shrank away from it as though it were a gun. Harry turned and raced down the stairs, opening the front door just as the owl arrived. He took the envelope and read the address.

Mr. H. Potter  
The Entry Hall  
Number 4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging, Surrey

Harry ripped open the letter and read it. It was from a Mafalda Hopkirk at the Improper Use of Magic Office, telling him that they knew he had just used illegal underage magic in full view of muggles and warning him that further violations of the restriction on underage magic would result in his being expelled from Hogwarts. It also said that the accidental magical reversal squad was on its way. Harry put the letter in his back pocket and took off into the night, too angry at the moment to even care how much trouble he was in.

He stomped down Privet Drive not sure what he ought to do. What he most wanted to do was get in touch with his father and tell him what had happened, but he had no way to do so. He had just decided to go to the small neighborhood playground and wait for his father to get back when he heard a scuttle down an alleyway. He peered down it, but all he could see was a rat nosing about. Upon seeing him, the rat ran toward him, and Harry watched it. He had never seen a rat act that way before.

"_With my luck, it'll turn out that I can talk to rats and everyone will think I'm the great-great-grandson of some evil rat king_," Harry thought to himself, "_Or it'll turn out to be a possessed rat and it'll turn into Lord Voldemort right here in the middle of the alley_." The rat continued toward him. He certainly did seem to have a talent for finding trouble. His dad said it was going to cause him to go prematurely gray. The rat was almost to him, and Harry was starting to back away uncertainly when there was the loud pop of someone apparating nearby.

Harry startled and tripped, catching himself as he hit the ground. He looked up to see several wizards he didn't recognize going into his aunt and uncle's house. Harry reckoned it must be the magical reversal squad. Just as he got to his feet he was knocked down again by the arrival of a purple double-decker bus. He recognized it as the Knight Bus. He had once ridden it to Sirius's house when he was about five years old and had decided to run away from home. He expected his godfather to be thrilled to see him. He had already built up in his mind how wonderful living with Sirius would be, but when he arrived Sirius had immediately told his father on him. At the time, Harry was furious at what he saw as a betrayal, but now that he was older he understood how dangerous running away like that had been and how terrified Sirius and his dad had both been while he was missing.

The members of the magical reversal squad turned at the arrival of the bus. "Hey!" One of them shouted, and they started to run toward Harry. He wasn't sure what they were going to want with him, but he was quite sure it wasn't anything good. Making a snap decision, Harry leapt onto the bus.

"GO!" He bellowed at the conductor, a pimply-faced kid who looked not much older than seventeen.

"Wachoo shoutin' for, then?" The kid asked.

"Just go," Harry shouted. "Take me to Sirius Black's house." He hastily gave the conductor the address.

The Knight bus took off with a jerk, knocking Harry sprawling on his back.

"Wachoo doin' down there?" The conductor asked.

"Well, I didn't do it on purpose." Harry said irritably as he picked himself up off the ground.

"What's your name?" The conductor asked.

"Neville Longbottom," Harry said. He wasn't in the mood to be stared at today, and people staring at him as soon as he said his name was nearly as predictable as Uncle Vernon turning puce whenever Harry was nearby.

Harry sat huffily and stared out the window, pressing his still-tingling cheek to the cool glass. The Knight Bus was mostly empty and Harry was glad because that meant it wouldn't be a long trip. He knew his dad would worry if he got back to Privet Drive and Harry was gone. He would contact him as soon as he got to Sirius's cottage. The bus drove wildly about the countryside and Harry thought it was going to crash at least a hundred times, but everything seemed to jump out of its way at the last moment. As they rode, Stan Shunpike and the driver, whose name was Ernie, discussed Peter Pettigrew. Well, Stan discussed Pettigrew. Ernie didn't seem to talk much. Harry reckoned it was probably self-preservation, since Stan talked enough for several people.

"Follower of You-Know-'Oo, 'e was. Innat right, Ern?" Stan said. Ernie nodded.

"Killed twelve muggles wif a single curse, 'e did. Same night You-Know-'Oo disappeared, it was. You know, they say 'e's the one what told You-Know-'Oo where to find the Potters that night."

Harry jerked at the sound of his surname. "He did?" Harry asked.

"That's what they say. Ain't it, Ern? Ain't that what they say?" Ernie nodded. "Say," Stan said, studying Harry closely, "Wachoo say your name was again?"

Harry was saved having to answer by their timely arrival at Sirius's house. Harry hopped off the bus just as Stan shouted out, "'Arry Potter! I knew you looked familiar!" But by then Harry was already running inside. He didn't even bother knocking.

"Sirius!" He shouted. Sirius came out of the kitchen.

"What in the world?" He asked. "Where's your dad? I thought you were in Surrey this week."

"Dad's off chasing Peter Pettigrew, and I've accidentally blown up Uncle Vernon."

Sirius sat down. "You'd best start this story at the beginning, Harry."

Harry told the whole story, finishing with, "I won't go back there. I won't."

"Well, I certainly won't make you, but we have to call your father. He'll be worried sick." Sirius took out a mirror and handed it to Harry.

"Dad," Harry called into the mirror. James's face appeared in the mirror a moment later.

"Harry? Is everything all right?"

"Did you find Peter Pettigrew?" Harry asked.

"No, he apparated as soon as he saw us. We're questioning people now and trying to figure out where he may have gone. I'll probably be back in an hour or so."

"I'm at Sirius's house," Harry said. Best to just get it over with in one fell swoop.

"What in the world are you doing there?"

"It's a long story, but I'm never going back to Surrey again."

James sighed. "What did they do?"

"I'll tell you when you get here. I don't want to keep you. I know you're really busy. I'm sorry for causing so much trouble."

"It's no trouble, Harry. I'll see if I can't get away sooner. You stay put at Sirius's house."

"I will."

Harry handed the mirror back to Sirius. Sirius was giving him a strange look. "Would you like some biscuits?" He finally asked. Harry nodded. He was still angry and frightened and couldn't stop thinking over what he had overheard on the bus. Sirius rose silently and went to the kitchen. He came back with a plate of biscuits and two butterbeers. "Are you all right, Pronglet?"

"Did Peter Pettigrew tell Voldemort where to find us?" Harry spat.

"Where did you hear that?"

"On the Knight Bus. Stan Shunpike told me."

Sirius took a deep breath before responding, "Yes, he did. He was loyal to Voldemort, and he found out where your parents were hiding. There wasn't anything anyone could have done. We didn't know he was coming until it was already too late."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry asked.

"Your dad doesn't like to talk about it. I can't say I blame him. I wouldn't much like to talk about it either if I were him. I still think he blames himself, but that's rubbish. He didn't tell you because he was trying to keep you safe. You being, well, who you are, you've had a lot of responsibility and expectations placed on you ever since that night, and it isn't fair. It isn't fair to ask a child to do what grown wizards are scared to do. Your dad's trying to protect you from all of that. That's why he had you in a muggle school, so you could at least have some friends who wouldn't know your whole life story and expect you to be some superhero. It's really important to him that you be allowed to be a child."

"I'm not a child!" Harry said, his voice rising. Sirius looked at him sadly and said nothing. "I'm not," Harry repeated, more insistently.

"You're right. I said that badly. It's important to him that you be allowed to stay young as long as you can."

"But he treats me like I'm helpless," Harry said bitterly.

"Now, now, you know that's not true. You don't need to be so melodramatic."

"Why do you always side with him?" Harry shouted.

"I don't, since you mention it, and you'll want to stop shouting at me. I'm trying to help." Sirius said firmly. He supposed he always knew the day would have to come when Harry hit puberty. He looked at the boy. There was no doubt about it; he was becoming a teenager before Sirius's very eyes. The tell-tale signs were everywhere: in the pinched look and too-thin frame of someone who had grown quite a lot in a short period of time, in the way his voice cracked when he was angry, in the trousers whose legs were a tad too short despite being brand new, in the moodiness that had not been present only a few weeks before.

Sirius sincerely hoped Harry was not planning to bring his new attitude to Hogwarts with him. Sirius didn't much care to deal with it in any role other than his current one as a non-voting observer. Talking to him and giving him advice was one thing. Having to actually call him down and discipline him, which he would if Harry brought his attitude into the classroom, was a completely different thing. While Sirius tried very hard to treat Harry the same as any other student in class, he knew that his inclination was to go rather easier on Harry than he probably should. Luckily, Harry had never pushed him too hard so it had never been an issue. He was afraid that might be about to change

Sirius also sincerely hoped Harry would not be thick enough to try out his new attitude on Remus Lupin, James's and Sirius's other best mate, who would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts this year. Whereas Sirius was inclined to wink at Harry's shenanigans, Remus would most likely be inclined to go harder on Harry than on the other students. Sirius made a mental note to warn Harry before the summer was over. Otherwise, his year would probably get off to a very rocky start.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, not sounding the least bit sorry. "I know you're trying to help. I just can't believe no one told me."

"And why should we have? What can you do about it?" Sirius asked.

"Nothing," Harry admitted, "but at least then I'd know you trust me."

"Of course we trust you," Sirius said quickly, "and maybe you should trust us back. Every decision we make about you is driven by only one thing: how much we care about you and want you to be happy. No, don't interrupt me," Sirius said as Harry opened his mouth to protest. He continued, his voice stern. "Think how hard this has been on your father. You know how hard he's been working to catch Pettigrew, and now he's even been called away from his holiday. Rufus Scrimgeour didn't even want him on the case in the first place, but he insisted he be allowed because he wants to catch Pettigrew more than anyone, and part of why he wants that is for you, so you can be safer. You have no right to be angry at him for that."

Sirius watched as the wind seemed to go out of Harry's sails. He hunched his shoulders and dropped his head. "You're right," he finally offered, "I'm sorry." This time he sounded as though he meant it.

"Harry," Sirius said gently, standing up and crossing the room to sit next to his godson and put a comforting arm around his shoulder. "You've had a hard time of it today. I don't blame you for being short. I probably would be, too, if I were in your place. Just don't take it out on the people who love you."

Harry nodded , feeling like he might cry. He fought the tingling in his eyes and the constriction in his throat. He was thirteen now; thirteen was far too old to cry over being scolded, even if it was by someone who was particularly good at it. The very fact that Sirius was scolding him at all made him feel about three inches tall. It wasn't something that happened very often.

"You know what you need?" Sirius said. "You need to have a little fun. Let's go flying."

"My broom's at my house," Harry said forlornly.

"I think I remember how to get there," Sirius said lightly. "You stay put, and I'll be right back." Harry watched as Sirius disappeared with a loud pop. A few moments later, he reappeared with the Nimbus 2001 that had been a gift from Harry's father last Christmas. Seeing it and remembering how happy he had been to receive it made the guilt at how unfair he had been to his father flare up again. Sirius handed over the broomstick and scrawled a quick note to tell James where they were.

"Do you think he'll be mad about what I did to Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked. The summer had begun with him in more trouble than he cared to recall over a forbidden trip to Hogwarts and a rescue mission that involved Harry getting bitten by a basilisk. He wasn't at all eager to face his father's wrath, or disappointment, again.

"No, I think he'll understand that you were provoked. Actually, I wouldn't much want to be Vernon when James finds out that he hit you."

"Maybe I won't tell him," Harry said softly.

"You ought to tell him. He needs to know."

"I don't want to be a bother."

"You've got to stop that, Harry. It's a father's job to be bothered. A godfather's, too, for that matter. In fact, if you don't tell him, I will. I think he'd want to know." Sirius said, throwing an arm around Harry's shoulder and walking him toward the door.

"Fine, I'll tell him," Harry said as he opened the door. Together, they stepped out into the warm early evening air, mounted their brooms, and flew until their troubles were all forgotten.


	3. A Friendship Formed

_Warning for mention of child abuse._

* * *

Sirius Black had always been aware that he was good looking. As a young boy, he had been one of those hopelessly adorable children that adults, even the ones who didn't like children, seemed to fall in love with on first sight. He had a tousled mop of dark curls that was always a little unruly, even after it had just been combed, and sparkling gray eyes that reflected the joy he took in simply being alive. He had a certain way of looking up at adults through his fringe of dark hair, a petulant pout on his sweet face, that could melt the hardest hearts. Only his parents were immune to his charms. As long as it didn't involve them, whatever Sirius Black wanted Sirius Black usually got.

Sirius was nearly four the day he first discovered his power to manipulate those around him to get what he wanted. He got lost from his mother in Diagon Alley and wandered the street crying for her. Finally, not knowing what else to do, he wandered into the sweet shop and the lady behind the counter was so taken with him she gave him free sweets to keep him from crying until his mother came in, frantic to find him. After that, he got lost from her nearly every time they went shopping. He quickly learned that crocodile tears would also get him free happiness at the bakery, the ice cream parlor, and even the joke shop.

Sirius first met James Potter on the Hogwarts Express. It was happenstance, really, their first meeting. Sirius was sitting miserably alone in a compartment worrying about Hogwarts and sorting and leaving his little brother at home alone with his parents. His father had beaten Sirius that very morning because he had lost his grip on his trunk while dragging it down the stairs and it had clunked down the stairs and then broken a priceless vase at the bottom. It still hurt, but not nearly as much as the fact that his father had not only beaten him on his last morning at home, but when the time came for him to leave, his father had still been so angry he wouldn't even say goodbye. His mother had tried to make up for it by telling him how much his father loved him, but Sirius had stopped believing that long before. He was wondering what was so awful about him that his own father couldn't even love him and trying not to care when James came in, dragging his trunk along behind.

"May I join you? Everywhere else is full." James asked. Sirius looked up at this new boy. He had quite a lot of messy black hair and a permanent mischievous gleam in his hazel eyes. Sirius liked him immediately and decided then and there he wanted to be this boy's friend.

"Suit yourself," Sirius said with a shrug.

"I'm James Potter," James said, holding out a hand to Sirius.

"Sirius Black," Sirius said, taking James's hand and shaking it. Then James began struggling to lift his trunk and Sirius got up to help him. It was much heavier than Sirius's own trunk.

"What've you got in here?" Sirius asked with a grunt as the two of them tried to lift it.

"I don't know. My mum packed it. Probably lots of long underwear. She thinks I'm going to freeze to death."

Just then, they lost their grip on the trunk and it crashed to the ground, popping open on impact and spewing James's belongings all over the compartment. A pair of underpants landed on James's head. Both boys began to laugh and couldn't stop. Together, they cleaned the compartment, throwing everything into a messy heap into the trunk. Then they couldn't get it closed. Finally, they both sat on it to force the lid down. That evening, they were both sorted into Gryffindor and sat together at the feast. Then they stayed up late in the night talking and laughing, ignoring the other four boys in their dormitory. A lifelong friendship had begun.

James had never known anyone quite like Sirius. He was cool and confident, never breaking a sweat no matter what sort of scrape they got themselves into. He seemed to have a second sense for when a situation called for sad puppy eyes and a protruding lower lip, or when it called for a look of purest innocence, or when it called for a well-timed cheeky comment. Hogwarts never knew what had hit it. Their first week, they got caught out of bed by Professor McGonagall, who was known as the strictest teacher at Hogwarts and Sirius, his eyes swimming with tears, had woven a smooth tale about getting lost on their way to the hospital wing where they were going because James was feeling sick, and Sirius was worried about him. Then he gave her his signature look, hanging his head and looking up at her through his curls. McGonagall had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. By the end of the first week, James and Sirius were easily the most popular boys in their year. All the girls fancied them. All the boys wanted to be their friend. Even their teachers adored them.

James did not know that Sirius's breezy confidence was an act. He didn't notice the uncomfortable look in Sirius's eyes whenever the subject turned to family or childhood reminiscence. He didn't hear the frightened midnight whimpers that signaled Sirius had had another nightmare. He didn't see the anxiety on Sirius's face whenever a letter arrived from his brother, or the relief that would spread across it when the letter contained no bad news. The first inkling James had that all was not right in Sirius's world was on Halloween that first term. Sirius got a letter that upset him that morning, but he wouldn't tell James what was wrong. All day long, he stared at the ground and said nothing unless directly asked a question. James couldn't imagine what was bothering his friend so much. That evening, Sirius never showed up to the Halloween feast, and James went searching for him. He found him in his bed in the dormitory, curled tightly into a little ball, the blankets pulled over his head, reading the letter and crying.

"What's the matter?" James asked, pulling the covers off his friend. Wordlessly, Sirius handed him the letter. It was from his mother, telling him that he had shamed the family by being sorted into Gryffindor and not to bother coming home for Christmas. James had to read it twice to make sure he understood it. He could barely believe his eyes. "You'll just have to come to my house, then." James finally said.

"Could I?" Sirius whispered.

"Yes, of course." James assured him. "I'll have to ask my parents, but I'm sure they'll say yes. They always do."

Sirius, for his part, had never met anyone quite like James. Sirius had been raised in a world where power and ambition were the most important things a person could possess, but James didn't seem interested in any of that. He valued loyalty and friendship and kindness and generosity. There was not a cruel or jealous or petty bone in his body. He shared all he had with his friends, who by Halloween had come to include Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, two other boys in their year. Sirius had begun referring to the four of them as "the marauders". James would have done anything for any of them.

He had even voluntarily taken the fall for Sirius the week before when they had gotten lost in the Forbidden Forest. McGonagall had told them both that they were to be caned. Thinking it would be like the beatings his father gave him, Sirius was visibly frightened, his eyes filling with the first genuine tears James had ever seen them produce. McGonagall had seen enough children have similar breakdowns when facing their first dose of the cane that his distress did not register for her, but James could tell something was wrong, so he convinced McGonagall that he was the one who went into the forest alone and that Sirius had come searching for him.

Sirius immediately knew what James was doing. He had spent the last several years willfully provoking his father when he was in one of his dangerous moods so that Sirius would get beaten instead of his little brother. He had done it willingly, wanting to protect Regulus however he could, but now, somehow, he couldn't seem to make himself speak up. Part of him wanted to tell McGonagall that James was lying and that it had been his fault instead, but he was so distraught to learn that he wasn't safe from being beaten even now that he was away from his father that he couldn't make his mouth work somehow. All he could do was wrap his arms around himself and try to control the tears that were flowing out of his eyes, unbidden and unwanted. The end result of James's lie was that Sirius got only two strokes, while James yelped his way through five.

Years after, when Sirius was a new teacher at Hogwarts himself, McGonagall asked him what had really happened that night, and Sirius confessed that it had actually been his idea to go into the forest and hunt for a unicorn. McGonagall admitted that she had felt a tad guilty punishing Sirius that day. "I thought you were one of those good, well-meaning boys that had just fallen in with a troublemaker," she told him. "Then, by the end of the year, I had decided that he was actually the good, well-meaning one and you were the one leading him astray. You were halfway through your third year before I realized you were both rapscallions. Hogwarts never saw the likes of the two of you, before or since."

Later, Sirius would be ashamed to remember how he had let James take the brunt of the punishment that day. James assured him it was nothing, but Sirius felt a surge of guilt every time he saw James wince upon sitting the next day. Finally, at dinner, James had admitted that he'd never been through anything so miserable in his life and that if he never saw the cane again, it would be too soon, but that he would do the same thing again in a heartbeat if faced with the same situation. Sirius's heart swelled with appreciation. No one had ever before cared about him enough to do something like that. It would prove to be only the first of many painful dinners for James, but it was the last one where he sat in pain alone. After that, Sirius was always wincing right alongside him, which somehow made the discomfort easier to bear.

James's second inkling that life was drastically different at the Black house than in his own home came the second day of the Christmas holidays. The two of them stole James's father's pipe and were trying it out in the parlor when the old man himself walked in. He gave them a stunning tongue-lashing that would have been more impressive if James hadn't been snickering through most of it, which got Sirius snickering as well, despite the trepidation he felt. Finally, James's dad sent them both to their rooms with a stern warning not to come out until they were sorry. Sirius sat in the guest bedroom feeling terrified. He was sure that James's dad was going to beat them both, and he'd never been made to wait for a beating before. His own father was more a heat-of-the-moment type of person. Sirius actually thought he might sick up. He couldn't understand how James managed to stand the anticipation.

Finally, he sneaked into James's room. "How long are we going to have to wait?" He asked James nervously.

"For what?" James asked airily. He was stretched out on his bed reading a book about quidditch as though he hadn't a care in the world. Sirius thought he was either very brave or very stupid.

"For our... you know... punishment," Sirius said.

"I think we've already had it," James responded, not even looking up from his book. "Weren't you there for all the shouting?"

"Yes," Sirius said, exasperated. He wasn't sure how to ask the question, but he couldn't stand not knowing. "But how long do we have to wait before he... you know... does it."

"Does what?" James asked, confused. He lowered the book and met Sirius's eyes.

"You know... beats us."

"He's not going to beat us," James said, narrowing his eyes at his friend. His mother and father had both spanked him on occasion when he was smaller, but they'd never beaten him. "My dad never beats me."

"He doesn't?" Sirius asked, feeling relief flood into every inch of his being.

"No, of course not." James said. "Does yours beat you?"

"Erm," Sirius stalled. "Never mind. Just forget it." He turned to leave, but James rushed off the bed and grabbed his arm. Sirius turned to face him slowly, trying to figure out how he would lie his way out of this. He had never before told anyone about the beatings, and the thought of doing so scared him.

"Your dad beats you." James repeated. This time it wasn't a question.

"It's not that bad. It's not like he punches me or kicks me or anything. He mostly just hits me on the bum and the legs. I don't want to talk about it," Sirius said firmly. But then he had. It was like a dam inside of him had broken and the memories were gushing out, flooding Sirius's mind and pouring out of his mouth. Once he got started, he couldn't stop telling the stories.

James listened with growing horror as Sirius talked, telling how his father had once beaten him until he couldn't walk because he had accidentally stepped on the old man's toe, or how he had once thrown Sirius against a wall because he had the audacity to get sick on a day that the Blacks were having guests over and now they'd have to cancel. James's heart ached for his friend. Part of him believed that Sirius was exaggerating their cruelty because James simply couldn't imagine a parent treating their child that was that Sirius's parents treated him.

James was originally planning to tell his parents the whole thing, but Sirius made him promise not to tell anyone. More than once over the next year, James would consider breaking the promise, but he never did. It was important to him, even at that young age, that he be considered trustworthy. They stayed in near constant contact that summer through daily owls and frequent visits. Sirius reported that the beating had stopped. His parents were so disgusted with him that they ignored him completely. He'd been home more than a month before either of them even spoke a word to him. He claimed it was an improvement, but James could tell whenever they were together that he was bothered by it much more than he was letting on.

In the meantime, Regulus had become the favored son and was blossoming under their mother's artificial affection. Sirius had figured out long before that the woman valued her children only for the status they could eventually bring to her, but Regulus hadn't realized it yet and accused Sirius of jealousy when Sirius tried to warn him. In Sirius's absence, their mother had managed to do what Sirius had spent his whole life trying to prevent: she had turned Regulus mean. That bothered Sirius more than anything; he and Regulus had always been so close.

As the boys grew, Sirius learned to use his story to impress girls. He would talk of some of the milder memories on dates, letting his pain show through his eyes. Every pretty girl at Hogwarts believed whole-heartedly that she and she alone knew the secret pain that hid behind the beautiful gray eyes of Sirius Black. The real truth was that the only ones who knew his secret pain were the marauders.

When Sirius was sixteen, his mother finally told him the thing Sirius had known for years; that she hated him and wished he'd never been born. She said she wished she'd had an abortion rather than having such a disappointment for a son. Nothing had ever been so painful for Sirius in all his life. Not knowing what else to do, he got his trunk and took the Knight Bus to the Potters' house. It was the only place he wanted to be. By then he loved them far more than he loved his own family.

James was like a brother to Sirius: the brother he wished he'd had. Sirius was never so proud as he was the day James called him in their two-way mirror and told him he would be marrying Lily Evans and wanted Sirius to be the best man. That joy was eclipsed only by the big day itself, which was in turn eclipsed only by the day Harry was born. He was born in the morning, and that afternoon, Sirius came by to visit Lily in St. Mungo's. Lily offered to let Sirius hold Harry and Sirius refused. "I'm afraid I'll break him," he said. "I've never seen anyone so tiny."

"You won't break him," Lily told him with a laugh, then she gave him a quick lesson in how to hold the infant and handed him over. Sirius was immediately smitten. He was staring into the baby's big green eyes when James told him that he and Lily had discussed it, and they wanted him to be the godfather. His eyes actually filled with tears of joy as he answered that he'd be honored.

When Peter Pettigrew betrayed James and Lily, Sirius blamed himself far more than he let on. Lily and James had originally wanted Sirius to be their secret-keeper, but Sirius had convinced them to use Peter at the last moment. Sirius was too obvious a choice, he argued. Everyone would know it was him and would come after him. They would use Peter instead and tell people it was Sirius and that would be safer. Sirius never suspected Peter would take the information straight to Voldemort. No one knew he had turned traitor and become a death eater. It was the last thing anyone ever expected.

They were both a mess those first few months after Lily died, each overcome with his own guilt. Finally, Sirius went to James to apologize and James offered him instant absolution, confessing that the blame lie with him, James, and him alone. Sirius had done everything he could to convince his friend that he was blameless, but he knew that James never believed it any more than Sirius believed himself to be blameless. Sirius's heart ached to see his friend in so much pain. Lily had been a dear friend to Sirius, and her death had left a gaping hole in his life, but it was for James and Harry that Sirius felt the most sorrow. Even now, twelve years later, as he watched Harry grow up without a mother, and watched James raise his son without a wife, Sirius's heart burned with hatred for Peter Pettigrew. He wanted nothing more than to watch Peter Pettigrew suffer for what he had done to the two people Sirius loved the most.

Sirius took his responsibility as Harry's godfather very seriously. He had been a constant force in Harry's life; buying him his first broomstick, slipping him his first taste of mead, always being ready with a listening ear or a bit of advice. He couldn't imagine loving Harry more if the boy were his own son. He was as worried as James over what Peter might be plotting and how it might involve his godson. He was eager to see Peter returned to Azkaban and determined to do whatever it would take to keep Harry safe. He would have gone out and killed Peter Pettigrew personally if he thought he could ever find the rat, but he had already tried it once and had nearly been outsmarted. He still shuddered as he remembered his one night in Azkaban. Knowing first-hand how awful it was only strengthened his resolve that it was a just punishment for the man who had betrayed them all.

Sirius disagreed vehemently with James's decision to keep Harry in the dark about Pettigrew's connection to his family. He seemed to think thirteen was much older than James did. The truth was likely somewhere in the middle, he told himself as he flew with his godson. As he watched Harry flying, a smile on his face, Sirius couldn't understand how James managed to do this parenting thing so well. If Sirius were the parent, he would probably waver between spoiling Harry and throttling him, and Harry would be a quivering mess in a corner somewhere. Disciplining students was one thing; doing it to someone you loved, well, that was something completely different. All the stakes were higher with Harry.

When James joined them in the sky, Sirius noted the strained look he wore and the way his shoulders hunched and decided to try to get him to stay in Wales for the rest of the week. He needed a holiday, and badly. He suspected James would refuse the invitation at first, but accept it in the end. After all, Sirius could be quite persuasive when the mood struck him. His parents remained the only people he'd ever known who were immune to his charms. As he had grown, his charisma had only grown with him. Yes, whatever Sirius Black wanted, Sirius Black usually got. And what he wanted today was more time with his best mate and his favorite student. As for seeing Peter Pettigrew suffer, well, that would have to wait.


	4. Evening Explanations

Harry didn't know James had returned until he joined them in the air. They flew together, racing in Sirius's back yard, for nearly an hour before James landed and motioned for Harry to do the same. Harry studied his dad's face to see if he knew about what had happened at the Dursley's yet. He couldn't tell for sure. James had been wearing his stress badly these days. He looked exhausted and worried. There had been times over the summer Harry had woken up in the middle of the night to find James out of bed studying spells or staring out the window. The week before, Harry had awoken to find James in his bedroom watching him sleep. James was usually quite good at making a distinction between work and home, and Harry hadn't understood until this evening why the Peter Pettigrew case was so important to his dad, but now he did.

"So, what happened in Surrey?" James asked when they got inside. Sirius handed him a glass of firewhiskey. "That bad?" He asked lightly. The small smile on his face quickly faded when neither Sirius nor Harry returned it. "What is it?" He asked.

Harry told him the whole story, including the part about Vernon slapping him, but leaving out the part about what he had heard on the bus. When the story was over, James slammed his now-empty firewhiskey glass on the table and left the room. Sirius went after him. Harry got up to follow, but Sirius motioned for him to stay. He did, but he stood right by the door so he could listen in. As he left the kitchen, Sirius cast _muffliato_, which would fill Harry's ears with an annoying buzzing sound. He knew any self-respecting teenager would be trying to eavesdrop at a time like this, and he didn't want to take the chance of Harry hearing something he shouldn't.

"I'm going to kill Vernon Dursley," James said angrily.

"I don't blame you, Prongs," Sirius said.

"Who slaps someone else's child?" James asked.

"Who slaps a child at all?" Sirius asked darkly.

"Precisely!" James agreed.

"You should talk to Harry. He's really afraid you're going to be angry at him."

"Of course I'm not angry at him. Vernon got off light with him. If I'd been there when Vernon hit him, they'd probably be shipping me off to Azkaban right now. I feel like the world's biggest arse. He's been begging me not to make him go there anymore for four years now, and I kept brushing him off."

"You had good reasons. You're right about him needing to know his mother's family."

"Well, we're not going back!" James spat.

"I should say not. I'll go collect your things if you don't think you can face them."

"No, I'll go tomorrow. I'll be calmer by then. I am planning to give Vernon a piece of my mind, though."

"Only a piece?" Sirius joked.

"Any more than that and he won't be able to understand what I'm saying. Ruddy prick."

"I hate to bring this up now, but Harry knows about Wormtail. Stan Shunpike told him Wormtail was the one who told Voldemort where to find you."

"Does he know any more than that?"

"No. At least I don't think so."

There was a long silence.

"I guess I had best go speak with him," James said softly. Then he made his way to the kitchen and his waiting son.

"Harry, I'm sorry for leaving you alone with the Dursleys. I never thought they would treat you like that." James said as he sat down next to Harry.

Harry shrugged, "It's all right."

"No, it isn't all right." James snapped. "You've been trying to tell me they're beasts for years and I haven't been listening to you, and now of course you're the one who's having to pay for my pig-headedness. By the way, let me see your letter."

Harry handed the letter over without a word. James's eyes narrowed as he read it. "I'll see if I can pull any strings and get this taken care of," he finally said. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed loudly. "You did the right thing coming here. I never would have expected you to stay there after Vernon hit you. That was quick thinking, calling the Knight Bus."

"I didn't really mean to call them, they just sort of showed up," Harry said.

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked.

"Well, originally I planned to go to the playground and wait for you to come back, but I got distracted by this really weird rat,"

"A really weird rat?" James asked, his face going pale. "What do you mean a really weird rat? You never said anything about a rat."

Harry stared at his dad a moment. Obviously he really was starting to feel too much strain if he were this worried about a rat. "I don't know. It was just a rat." Harry finally said. "It was down the alley and when it saw me, it started running toward me. I thought it was a strange way for a rat to act. Usually they run away, right? I watched it for a few seconds, but then the reversal squad came and they startled me so much I tripped and that's when the Knight Bus came... What?"

James and Sirius were staring at each other. They had both gone white as sheets "What is it?" Harry repeated.

"Harry, go upstairs and find something to do." James said curtly.

"Why?"

"Just do it!" James barked.

"Am I in trouble?" Harry asked.

"No, just go upstairs!" James ordered. Harry obeyed, fully intending to eavesdrop, but no sooner was he out of the room than his ears began to buzz annoyingly. He swore under his breath. That always happened whenever the marauders were having an interesting conversation. He was sure it was a spell, and he would very much like to learn it. It would come in very handy at school, but he couldn't get anyone to give him a straight answer about it.

In the kitchen, James and Sirius stared at one another tensely.

"Do you think it could have been him?" Sirius asked.

"How in the world would he have been able to find Harry in Surrey?" James said, dropping his head onto the table.

"He may have remembered about Lily's sister. Do you think it's time for the Fidelius Charm? I'll be the secret-keeper this time. Remus would, too, if you asked him."

"I'm not going to just cower and wait for him to come after us again."

"That's not what the Fidelius Charm is about, and you know it." Sirius said sternly.

"What am I going to do?" James asked, lifting his head and dropping it back onto the table a few times.

"Well, banging your head on the table until you're brain-addled isn't going to help anything."

"I don't think this day could possibly get any worse."

"Stay here tonight, James. I've got plenty of space. We'll figure this out in the morning."

"Harry's supposed to leave for Hogwarts in two weeks. After what happened last term, I don't think he'll ever forgive me if I don't let him go, but I don't think it's safe. This is the year he's supposed to start going to Hogsmeade, but I won't be letting him. Can you imagine if Wormtail catches up to him when he's at the Shrieking Shack or something? He's going to be furious when I tell him."

"Let him be furious. He'll understand when he's older. And don't worry about Hogwarts. He'll be safe enough in the castle."

"When has he ever been safe in the castle?" James asked.

"He was his first year," Sirius pointed out.

"Was that before or after he fought a full-grown mountain troll, had his broom jinxed by a teacher, played mummy to a dragon, and single-handedly faced down Lord Voldemort? And those are only the things I know about. And let's not even mention what happened last year."

"Last year was different. We didn't know what we were up against last year. This year, we do. And besides that, Peter's a coward. I don't know how he ever ended up in Gryffindor. I very highly doubt he'll try to get into a place as heavily guarded as Hogwarts. He'd be terrified of Dumbledore catching him."

"I wish we still had our map," James said.

"We could always make another one," Sirius said. "Give it to Dumbledore so he can keep an eye on things. Maybe we can even enchant it to alert all the teachers if Wormtail comes on the grounds."

"Fudge is insisting they send dementors to Hogwarts this year to guard the entrances."

"Oh, no, that's not a good idea at all."

"You know Fudge. He's much more concerned with keeping up appearances of effectiveness than with actually being effective."

"Idiot," Sirius spat. "Do you think Wormtail's really after Harry?"

"I don't know. Everyone at the office keeps saying he is, but I've yet to see a shred of evidence for it, and every time I ask someone where they heard it, they just point to someone else. I think it must just be a rumor, but I don't want to take any chances. It doesn't add up, though. Peter's a coward, like you said. That's why he turned us over to Voldemort in the first place. Seems to me that he wouldn't do anything that could land him back in prison. Seems to me he'd just want to get as far away from here as possible and try to start over."

"You never can tell what drives people," Sirius said.

"I guess I should tell Harry about the rumor. Then at least he knows about it if it does turn out to be true."

"I think that's a good idea, Prongs. Forewarned is forearmed, after all."

"I don't want him to worry. That's my job."

"You can't protect him from everything," Sirius offered.

"How many fathers have to worry about protecting their thirteen-year-olds from crazed mass murderers? How much is it fair for the world to put on one child?" James asked, frustrated.

"I don't think fair enters into it, mate. If fair entered into it anywhere, Voldemort never would have been born. None of this makes sense, and you'll go mad if you try to force it to. Oh, and by the way, don't call Harry a child. I made that mistake once already tonight. He gets pretty indignant about it."

James looked as if he couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. "All right, let's get him down here." James said, lifting the muffliato spell he had cast at the start of the conversation and calling for Harry.

"You're doing the right thing in telling him," Sirius said. "Would you like me to stay or go?"

"Stay, please. I think I could use the support." James told his friend.

"Oh, now you're ready to talk to me?" Harry said irritably as he came into the room. James drooped visibly.

"Sit down and shut up, Harry. Your dad's had a hard day." Sirius snapped. James held a hand up to him.

"Don't, Padfoot. It's fine. Harry, please have a seat."

Harry sat, looking chastened by Sirius's words.

"Sirius told me that you know Peter Pettigrew was the person who turned us over to Voldemort. I really must apologize to you. You should have heard that from me, not some stranger. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to be worried. Pettigrew is dangerous, and we have no idea where he is or what he's playing at, but one of our theories is that he's after us."

"Us?" Harry asked.

"You and me, or maybe just me, or maybe even just you. There's not a lot of hard evidence to support the theory, but there are a few reasons to think it may be true, not least is the fact that he turned up in Godric's Hollow tonight. It may well be that he was looking for the two of us there. But you don't have anything to worry about. There's been a round-the-clock guard put on our house. He won't get anywhere near there, and the ministry is taking several precautions to make sure Hogwarts is secure."

"Why would he be after us?" Harry asked, trying and failing to make sense out of what his father was telling him

"I don't know. Because he's deranged. Maybe he thinks killing you will bring Voldemort back. Maybe he's always secretly hated me, and he's trying to finish what he started. Who can say? It doesn't matter. What matters is that you will have to be very careful at Hogwarts this year. I'm sorry, kiddo, but you won't be able to go to Hogsmeade."

"What?" Harry said, jumping to his feet. "That's not fair!"

"I'm sorry, Harry. I know it's not fair, but it's necessary." James said tiredly. He had been preparing himself emotionally for a fight over this ever since he had made the decision a few weeks before, but now that it was here, he just wanted to go to bed.

"But everyone else will be going to Hogsmeade!" Harry continued.

"If I had my way, they wouldn't, but that's not my decision to make. Whether or not you can go is my decision, and I've decided you're not going."

"You always treat me like I'm a child!" Harry shouted.

James was too tired to be angry at Harry's shouting. He could hear the strain in his own voice as he answered his son's charge. "No, I don't. If I did, I wouldn't have told you what I just told you."

"Why do you always do these things to me?" Harry railed, pacing around the dining room.

"Because I love you," James said quietly, "And I want you to be safe."

Harry stopped pacing and stared at James a moment. Then he plopped down hard in his chair. "It's no fun shouting at you when you're like this," he said bitterly.

James gave a weak smile. "Sorry I can't make it more rewarding for you. I'm too tired at the moment to put much effort into it, I'm afraid. I know you're upset about Hogsmeade. I would be too if I were you, but I promise I'll sign off on your trips as soon as we catch Pettigrew."

"All right, enough of this," Sirius said suddenly in a voice that was not to be disobeyed. "You're both staying here tonight. James, you're exhausted. Go to bed. If you're not asleep in an hour, I'm going to force you to drink sleeping potions. Pronglet, I've got some chocolate frogs with your name on them, and I haven't beaten you at gobstones in far too long."

All three of them rose. James trudged up the stairs and collapsed into the bed in Sirius's guest room. He was so exhausted that he was asleep within minutes. Harry and Sirius retired to the living room, where they played gobstones and exploding snap far past Harry's bedtime. Finally, Harry began falling asleep in the middle of a game, so Sirius settled him on the sofa with pillows and blankets and then made his way upstairs. After ensuring James was asleep, he wandered into his own room. He wasn't the slightest bit tired; he had hours and hours in which to brood.


	5. Hectic Holidays

By the time Harry awoke the next morning, James had already left for Surrey. He didn't return until it was nearly dark, and he had all their things with them. He wouldn't tell Harry what had transpired between himself and Vernon no matter how much Harry begged. All he would say was that he and Vernon had had a long talk and that they would not be going to Surrey any more. Sirius invited them to spend the rest of their holiday with him, and James readily agreed. Harry was glad for it; he always had great fun at Sirius's house.

Harry tried to persuade Sirius to convince his dad to let him take trips to Hogsmeade, but Sirius stubbornly refused. Harry wasn't really surprised, but he thought it worth a try. If anyone could ever convince James to change his mind about something, it was Sirius. Sirius and James had been thick as thieves ever since their very first year at Hogwarts. Harry knew that Sirius had even moved in with the Potters when he was sixteen and couldn't stand another moment with his abusive parents.

Sirius didn't talk about his family much, but Harry knew he had had a younger brother named Regulus who had joined up with Voldemort and then been killed by Voldemort's followers when he tried to leave. Sirius still owned the family's ancestral home in London. He hated going there. Even after he had had it renovated to get rid of all evidence of his family ever having been there, he said the house gave him chills. Harry had never been there, but he'd heard Sirius talk about how horrid it was. He'd had to tear down all the walls because his mother had put everything up with permanent sticking charms. The marauders had a giant bonfire out back that Sirius claimed was one of his happiest memories.

Sirius had only one picture of his family in his house: a picture of them on the front steps of their house in London. Sirius's parents were sitting on the top step scowling at the camera. In front of them, Sirius was hugging his brother and laughing. His two front teeth were missing. Regulus was laughing as well. Sirius admitted to Harry that they were both laughing so hard because Sirius had been tickling Regulus when the picture was taken. Sirius said it was his favorite picture of the two of them.

He also confessed that about two seconds after the picture was taken, their dad had clouted them both in the back of the head and told them to stop carrying on like mudbloods. They couldn't take another picture after that because Regulus wouldn't stop crying no matter how much Sirius tried to make him laugh. Finally, their father had taken them both into the house and beaten them. Harry had heard precious few stories about Sirius's childhood, but they all seemed to end with Sirius's father beating someone, usually Sirius. Thinking of his own father, who was kind and gentle and generally very understanding, even when Harry misbehaved, Harry couldn't imagine how awful that must have been for Sirius.

Sirius had replaced his own family with James and Harry and their friend Remus Lupin, who also used to run with them at Hogwarts. There had once been a fourth boy as well, but they hardly ever spoke of him. On the rare occasions that they did, they usually referred to him as "that rat" or "Wormtail". Harry didn't think he had ever heard them refer to him by name. Harry knew that there had been some sort of falling out between Wormtail and the rest of the marauders before Harry was born. He had asked once about the nature of the falling out, but no one would tell him.

He asked Sirius once what Wormtail did now, and Sirius told him darkly that Wormtail lived on the sea and dealt in subterfuge. Harry didn't know what subterfuge meant, and when he asked Sirius, Sirius would only say that it meant he was not to be trusted. Harry had had to accept that answer because Sirius wouldn't tell him anything more.

Their week at Sirius's house went by in a flutter of activity. James was glad that he did not get called into work again. He had had a difficult summer. When he was at work, he was worrying that Harry was not safe at home. When he was at home, he was worrying that Harry would not be safe at Hogwarts. While he had paid lip service to complaining about the guard being put on his house at the beginning of the summer, he was secretly grateful for it. Otherwise, he never would have felt comfortable leaving Harry there alone.

James was exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. He was afraid he had been working too much and too hard. He had always seen being Harry's father as his first priority, which meant that he had always been careful to balance his work and home lives. There had been a few times when Harry was younger that Rufus Scrimgeour had insisted James work overtime and James had refused, counting on his talent and his popularity to save him from being sacked. It had always worked.

Once, when Harry was eight, there had been a vicious attack on muggles on the same afternoon that Harry was supposed to star as Captain Hook in the school play at their neighborhood's muggle school. Scrimgeour actually went so far as to tell James that if he left he could say goodbye to his job, and James had told him that his son would always come first and if he, Scrimgeour, couldn't understand that to just stuff it and then walked out the door.

The next morning, James went to work as though nothing had happened and his friend and mentor, Alastor Moody, told him that Scrimgeour had been so angry after James left he actually threw a paper weight out the window, but then Moody had informed him that James was one of the best aurors he had and that James had been absolutely right about his family being first. Moody said he also told Scrimgeour that if he was really such an idiot as to sack James Potter over something that ridiculous, he'd probably lose half his department right along with him, including Moody. Things were tense for quite some time between James and his boss after that, but eventually James's affable nature had won Scrimgeour over and the two had returned to their previous pleasant, if business-like, relationship.

James worried that he was spending too much time at work now and that Harry was starting to resent it. Harry seemed to be growing up so quickly these past few weeks, and James worried that he was missing it. It seemed every time he saw the boy, he was taller. He could barely keep him in clothes, and there was never enough food in the house for him. He had been spending quite a bit of time at the Burrow with his friend, Ron Weasley. Otherwise, James would have worried about his spending too much time alone. Usually James took long holidays in the summer so that he could spend time with Harry while he was home, but now he felt that the best way to care for Harry was to catch Peter Pettigrew. He did worry, however, that he was neglecting his son.

He left early and came home exhausted. Many had been the time he had come home to find Harry waiting for him expectantly wanting to go flying or play a game and James had had to say no because he was so tired. He tried not to see the disappointment in his son's face when that happened, and he kept promising himself he'd make it up to the boy come the weekend, but then it seemed there was always some sort of crisis on Friday and James would end up working through most of the weekend. He had been so looking forward to their time in Surrey, but then he had to put the trip off later than usual because two days before they were supposed to leave, Pettigrew had been spotted in Cornwall. It turned out to be a false sighting, but they only discovered that after James had spent the better part of two days combing the small town in Cornwall where the muggle who bore an uncanny resemblance to Pettigrew lived.

James determined that he was going to make the most of this little patch of time together with his son. He crammed so much activity into their holiday that he almost felt he needed another holiday when the time came for him to go back to work. "Can't you just take one more day off?" Harry asked him when Monday morning rolled around. "Only it's my last week before I have to go back to Hogwarts."

"I'll see what I can do," James told him, but as soon as he got to work, he knew it would be another tough week. There had been another sighting, this time in Devon, near Ottery St. Catchpole, of all places. When he heard that, James just wanted to go home and crawl into bed. He hardly had the energy to deal with it. He slowly made his way to Scrimgeour's office. "I need more time off. I'm exhausted. I can't keep going like this," James told his boss.

"You're the one who wanted this case, Potter!" Scrimgeour barked.

"And I still want it. Only if I don't get a break soon, I'm going to crack and you'll end up carting me off to St. Mungo's. I'd like to take the rest of this week, if that's all right with you. It's Harry's last week at home, and I could use the rest. After that, I'll come back ready to give it my all."

Scrimgeour looked at James a moment as though studying him. "Fine," he finally agreed. "Spend some time with your son and come back on Monday ready to jump back in."

"Thanks," James said gratefully. "I really appreciate this."

"Potter," Scrimgeour said when James was nearly out the door.

"Yes?" James asked, turning.

"Get some sleep. You look awful."

James made his way through the ministry. He had one more stop to make before he went home to his son, at the Improper Use of Magic Office.

James did not know Mafalda Hopkirk well. Their time at Hogwarts had overlapped by one year: she was a seventh year when James was a first year. He had been completely oblivious to her presence and was quite sure she had been completely oblivious to his as well; while James had become one of the most popular students in his class very soon into his first year, it wasn't until his second year, when he became the star of the Gryffindor quidditch team, that he gained school-wide prominence, and even then he never would have expected a seventh-year to remember him. He hoped he would be able to charm her now. At the Improper Use of Magic Office he asked for Mafalda Hopkirk and spoke with her briefly to explain why Harry had used underage magic. Hopkirk quickly referred him to her supervisor, a Bronwyn Llewellyn.

James knew Llewellyn only by reputation. Hers was similar to James's own: she was firm but fair, willing to listen to extenuating circumstances and take them under advisement when making decisions, but able to stand firm in the face of pleading if need be. That skill was a necessity in any line of work that included enforcing sanctions against people.

It had been a learned skill for James; his first case as an auror had nearly ended disastrously when a dark witch with a pretty face began crying and spinning James a woebegone tale of how she had been attacked on the street by six muggle men intent on harming her, and how she had had no choice but to hex them. James, with his inherent trusting nature, had been nearly ready to let her off on grounds of self-defense when Moody came in and informed James that this was the third time she'd been picked up for hexing muggles and that each of her attacks had been worse than the last. It was an embarrassing lesson for James; he hated to think that he had been manipulated so easily. Moody told him that it's a lesson everyone has to learn eventually and that he should be thankful he'd been able to learn it the easy way.

"May I speak with you a moment?" James asked when he arrived at Llewellyn's office, peeking his head inside. Llewellyn looked up and James saw recognition spring into her face. This was not an uncommon occurrence for him. It had been happening to him since his school days and had only increased since the attack on his family had launched his son and, to a lesser extent, James himself, to instant fame. The reputation he had built for himself as one of Britain's most talented aurors didn't hurt, either. Still, no matter how many times it happened that someone he was sure he had never seen before recognized him, he always found it rather unnerving.

"James Potter!" Llewellyn said warmly. "Yes, please come in." She motioned to a chair in front of her desk.

"Have we met?" James asked cautiously, extending a hand. She rose and shook his hand politely. She had a firm handshake. James looked into her eyes. They were such a bright shade of blue that it was almost startling. He felt a small jolt go through his chest.

"Not formally. We were at Hogwarts together." She said, smiling.

James smiled outwardly but tensed inwardly. He had found in his dealings with those who had been at Hogwarts with him that they would have one of two reactions to him. Either they had admired him and wished to be his friend, in which case they would bend over backward to help him; or they had despised his popularity and talent, or he had been cruel to them, or both, in which case they would throw every obstacle they could into his path. There never seemed to be any middle ground: people either loved him or hated him. Luckily for him, most people fell into the former category. Looking at her smile, James sincerely hoped Llewellyn would be among their number.

"I hope I was kind to you," James said, his tone guarded.

"Oh, I don't think we ever spoke. I was a year under you and in Ravenclaw. I knew who you were, though. I think everyone did. You were quite the big man in the castle, as I recall. So, what can I do for you, Mr. Potter?" Llewellyn asked, taking her seat. James sat as well.

"It's about my son," he began.

"Ah, yes, Harry, bit of a surprise for all of us when his underage magic report came through. We almost hated to send him the warning, seeing what all he's been through. But rules are rules, you know. We can't go making exceptions just because someone's famous. I suppose you've come to see if you can get it 'taken care of'." She said with a knowing smile.

"Well, I did want to explain." James said.

"Yes, you're not the first nervous parent I've seen. Believe me. Well, go on then. I'm listening."

"Harry didn't actually mean to do magic at all. The man he blew up is his uncle, my late wife's sister's husband. He's not a very nice person, I'm sorry to say, and he's always particularly hated Harry. It was the night Peter Pettigrew was spotted in Godric's Hollow, and I had to go investigate so I left him with there with them, which was a bit thick on my part, I must confess. I should have known better than to leave him there alone with them. Anyway, they locked him in a cupboard as a joke and, well, he's a tad claustrophobic, so when they finally let him out he was angry."

"Understandable," Llewellyn agreed.

"That's what I thought. Then apparently there was some sort of shouting match that ended with my brother-in-law hitting Harry. That's when Harry blew him up. He just lost his temper was all. It could have happened to anyone."

"Let me ask you something, Mr. Potter," Llewellyn said, furrowing her brow. "If someone were dragged into your office for attacking a muggle and they told you that they had just lost their temper and that it could have happened to anyone, what would you say?"

Inwardly, James had to appreciate how deftly she had just painted him into a corner. "The people I get in my office are not usually thirteen. Grown witches and wizards are expected to control their tempers a bit better than adolescents."

"And how will he learn to control his temper if there are no consequences when he loses it?" She asked.

"I'm not asking that there be no consequences," James said silkily. "I am only asking that the circumstances under which he used magic be taken into account."

"But I would be correct in assuming that you would like the record of his transgression to be expunged?" Llewellyn asked, a gleam in her eye. She almost seemed to be enjoying herself.

"I would not be at all opposed to that outcome, no." James admitted.

"Here's what I'll do. His record will stay as written, but I will make a note of the circumstances. I will also add to his file that he has been vouched for by an auror, and I will not add that said auror is his father. Will that please you?"

"Yes," James said. "Very much. Thank you."

"What that will mean is that, should there be another incident, his expulsion from Hogwarts will not be immediate, but would, rather, be subject to a disciplinary hearing. Of course, those who are conducting the hearing might still decide to expel him, so you might warn him to better control his temper in the future."

"I will," James said, rising.

"It was lovely to finally meet you, Mr. Potter," Llewellyn said, rising along with James and smiling. "It must be very odd for you, having people you don't know recognize you."

"Yes, it is. It's been happening ever since I joined the Gryffindor quidditch team, but I never could get used to it."

"Yes, I played myself, in my seventh year, and it used to happen to me as well. I found it a bit unsettling."

"I always used to feel a tad guilty when someone would come up to me and I had no idea who they were. I actually made a girl cry once when I couldn't remember her name. She wouldn't stop until I gave her chocolate frogs and promised I'd never forget her name again."

"Who was it?" Llewellyn asked.

"I don't remember," James said, and Llewellyn laughed, throwing her head back. She had a musical laugh. When she had finished, she tossed her dark brown curls off her shoulders and held out her hand to James.

"Tell your son that I wish him my best," she said, smiling.

"I'll tell him," James said, shaking her hand and returning her smile. It had been several years since someone had been able to outmaneuver him so impressively; he was awed. He looked into her eyes and felt that jolt go through his chest again, almost imperceptible. She really was quite lovely. "It was nice to meet you," he said, still holding her hand in his.

"May I have my hand back now?" She asked.

"Yes, of course, goodbye," James said, dropping her hand. Then he ran his fingers through his hair as he had during his school days and turned to leave her office, sneaking glances at her over his shoulder as he did. She was smiling at him every time he looked.

Harry was ecstatic when James came home. "I've managed to get the week off." James informed him. "And I plan to spend it spoiling you rotten. I've been a terrible father this summer."

"No, you haven't. I know you just wanted to catch Pettigrew so I'd be safe. Sirius and I had a talk about it, and I realized I've been a prat."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say you've been a prat, kiddo. I think it's been perfectly understandable for you to feel you were getting the short end of the stick. I have been working quite a lot, and that's one thing I promised myself I'd never do - work so hard that I neglected my family."

Harry shrugged. "I understand why you did. I want you to get Pettigrew, too."

"Well, he can wait. We have a whole week before you have to go back to school, and there are no Dursleys around to spoil it for us, so what would you like to do?"

"Can we play quidditch?" Harry asked.

"Quidditch it is!" James agreed enthusiastically. "Let me just change out of my nice robes." James went upstairs and changed and then laid down on his bed to rest for a moment. He was intending to get up again, but instead he fell asleep. The light told him it was early evening when he finally awoke. "Damn!" He swore out loud. Then he called for Harry. Harry appeared in the doorway a moment later. "Kiddo, I'm sorry," James said, feeling like a heel.

"It's all right. I know you were tired."

"But we were going to play quidditch," James said, yawning.

"We'll play later. I'm making dinner."

"What are you making?"

"Spaghetti," Harry said. "It's about the only thing I know how to make."

"I'm sure it will be wonderful, and we'll play quidditch after dinner."

"That sounds good," Harry agreed.

"And I was thinking that maybe tomorrow we could go to Hogsmeade, since you won't be able to go with your classmates."

Harry's smile didn't quite hide his annoyance at the reminded that he would be banned from Hogsmeade trips. "I'd like that," he said.

James saw the annoyance and hated it for his son. He had to admit that there was a certain element of revenge that motivated him to search so hard for Pettigrew, but mostly he wanted Pettigrew back in prison for Harry's sake. The boy had already suffered so much because of Pettigrew. He had lost his mother; he had been scarred for life; he had practically had a giant target for every dark wizard in Britain painted on his head; and he lost every chance he had ever had at a normal childhood, if not a normal life. It only seemed to add insult to injury that now even field trips were being taken away from him as well.

James resented that he had to be the one to stand firm and take the heat for the decision when Pettigrew was the one who made it necessary. He felt his heartbeat race as his temper flared. He would see Pettigrew dragged back to Azkaban if it was the last thing he ever did.


	6. Deadly Dementors

_Author's Note: Doing my regular check-in to make sure everyone's still with me. I've taken a few more detours than usual this time around with flashbacks and backstory and the like. As I said at the end of the second one, this one's a little bit more complicated to write because I'm having to deviate from canon much more. I'm trying really hard to do it in a way that's both believable and true to the characters, so I'll be asking for a lot more feedback on this one.  
_

_To Little Miss Lestranged: James goes to all Harry's quidditch matches. It's his way of showing support, and also sneaking in a visit to his son. I just don't write them all because not all of them add to the plot, and they're surprisingly difficult to write. Quidditch tactics is not something I have a great handle on.  
_

_To Teufel1987: Good catch about hearing versus trial. It's fixed now. :-)_

_To LaPaz7715 and LauraWinter: I continue to be humbled by your kind words. Thank you so very much. As far as whether anything's going to happen with James and Llewellyn, well, I'm not telling. ;-)  
_

_Thanks for all the reviews and adds. I really, really appreciate them!_

* * *

Their final week together passed quickly and James found himself driving Harry to London to board the Hogwarts Express. It was a dreary day: the rains had begun during the night and had brought with them a cold wind that wouldn't have been out of place in mid-October.

On the platform, James found himself stalling over the goodbye. When James was young, saying goodbye to his parents got easier every year. Now that he was the parent, he found that every year the goodbyes were harder than the year before. He wanted to cling to his son. There was no telling how big he'd be when James saw him again or how much he would have changed. James felt that he was missing the final, precious days of his son's childhood. The boy was now on a full charge toward adolescence, and, while that would bring with it new joys and challenges, part of James longed for the little boy who used to bang around the house on his toy broomstick and then crawl into James's lap and beg to be told stories when he was tired, only to fall asleep, his head buried on James shoulder, before the stories were finished. Harry allowed himself to be hugged on the platform, although James could tell he was a little embarrassed. "No adventures this year," James warned as he let go. "Be careful."

Harry nodded, grinning. "I'll do my best."

James smiled. "I love you."

"I love you too, Dad. See you at the first quidditch match?"

"I wouldn't miss it: not for anything in the world," James assured him.

"Bye," Harry called over his shoulder as he joined his waiting friends, Ron and Hermione. Together, the three of them rushed through the rain, hopped on the train, and waved goodbye to their parents as the train pulled away from the platform. James huddled under an awning with the rest of the parents and waved.

"Come on," Hermione said when the platform was out of sight. "Let's find a compartment."

The only compartment they could find contained Remus Lupin, fast asleep. "I don't really want to share a compartment with him," Harry whispered to the others as they stood looking in the window at Remus. "I mean, I like him and all, I just don't want him breathing down my neck."

"Everywhere else is full," Hermione said. "And besides, he's asleep." She opened the compartment and went in. Ron followed. Ron did not know Remus well, and Hermione hardly knew him at all. Harry knew him very well; in fact Harry was part of the reason Remus would be coming to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. At the previous term's closing feast, Harry had told Dumbledore that Remus was a brilliant teacher, which he was in a unique position to know because Remus has been tutoring him for months after Harry's dad pulled him out of Hogwarts in response to a series of attacks on students.

Harry had been enthusiastic at first about Remus coming to Hogwarts to teach, but as the summer went by, he found himself more and more nervous about the prospect. Sirius being there was one thing; Sirius went easy on him and offered him advice and guidance, usually along with large helpings of biscuits and chocolate frogs, without being overbearing. Harry wasn't so sure Remus would be able to strike the same balance. He had always been much stricter with Harry than Sirius, or even James, were prone to being.

Harry knew Remus loved him, and he loved Remus as well. Remus and Sirius were both like second fathers to him, but he wasn't sure what to expect from Remus in a classroom setting. He certainly wasn't keen to spend his last free hours with an authority figure, even one he was fond of. Why was Remus on the train, anyway? No teacher had ever taken the train before. Harry felt his face grow hot as he thought about it.

Harry took a deep breath and went into the compartment. Hermione was right, after all. Everywhere else was full.

"Why's he taking the train?" Ron asked. "Don't teachers usually apparate or use the floo or something?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with Pettigrew, they want teachers on the train just in case or something."

"If that were the case, don't you think he'd be awake?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged again. Remus had always been sickly. "Maybe he's not feeling well," Harry suggested.

The conversation took an easier turn as Hermione asked the boys about Hogsmeade. She had never been. They told her about Honeydukes, the sweet shop; and Zonko's, the joke shop. They told her about the Three Broomsticks, where butterbeer flowed like water, and about the Shrieking Shack, the most haunted building in all of Britain.

"Sirius says it's not really haunted," Harry told them. "He says a werewolf used to use it for his transformations and that that was where all the noises came from."

"How would he know that?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know. I didn't ask." Harry said.

"You never think of the important questions," Hermione said with a smile.

"We're going to have a blast in Hogsmeade," Ron said, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back on the seat.

"Actually, I can't go," Harry informed his friends.

"Why not?" Hermione asked.

"Pettigrew," Harry spat. "My dad says it's not safe. Sometimes I think he's forgotten that I'm thirteen. He still treats me like I'm five." Harry didn't realize until the words came out of his mouth how bitter he felt. He was tired of always being the one with a target on his back. For once, he'd like to be the one taking carefree trips to Hogsmeade and watching someone else do all the work.

"Bad luck," Ron said sympathetically. "I'll make sure to get you Zonko's products every time I go."

"Thanks," Harry said glumly. "Hey, maybe..." he stole a glance at Remus to be sure he was still asleep. Then he lowered his voice to whisper conspiratorially. "Maybe I can use my invisibility cloak to go."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Hermione began, but Ron cut her off.

"That's a great idea!"

Harry smiled, pushing aside the small feeling of guilt that always accompanied disobeying his father. He wasn't a child anymore, he told himself, he was perfectly justified in having some fun. His father would never know.

Just then, Draco Malfoy appeared, flanked by his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy was easily the nastiest person Harry had ever met. "What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked, raising his voice angrily.

"Who's that?" Malfoy asked, pointing at Remus.

"He's a teacher," Harry said, standing and crossing his arms over his chest.

Malfoy looked very much as though he wanted to say something else, but even he wasn't thick enough to pick a fight in front of a teacher. "Come on," he said to Crabbe and Goyle. "There's got to be someone better on this train to talk to than a mudblood and a couple of blood-traitors."

Harry fought the urge to hex Malfoy the moment his back was turned. He would have liked very much to vent some of his pent-up anger at a bully like Malfoy. "It's not worth it," Hermione said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I know," Harry said, "but that doesn't mean I can't at least enjoy the fantasy, does it?"

Hermione gave a small laugh. "Come on, have a chocolate frog," she said, holding one out to him, but he never got to it because at that moment the train came to a screeching halt and the lights went out, casting them all into darkness. The only sound was the rain slashing against the window until the screams began; all over the train terrified students were screaming. Harry heard Remus's voice. "Is everyone all right? Lumos!"

"We're fine," Harry assured him as Remus's wand tip lit up, casting a soft light in the compartment.

"Ah, Harry, good to see you." Remus said, smiling. Just then the compartment door opened and Ginny and Neville came in, both looking terrified.

"There's something out there!" Ginny said, making a beeline for Ron and taking his hand. No sooner had the compartment door slammed shut than it opened again, this time to admit a man in a black cloak and hood. No, not a man, Harry decided, something else entirely. The thing drew a long, rattling breath and Harry felt a cold overtake him that seemed to reach into his very soul. As the warmth leached out of his body, it was replaced by the darkest despair he had ever known. The thing reached out a hand toward Harry. It was gray and covered in scabs,as though it was rotting. Harry thought it was the most horrible thing he had ever seen. Then a woman screamed and Harry realized he was screaming along with her.

"Harry, wake up!" Hermione was shaking him. He was lying on the ground in the compartment with no memory of how he had come to be there. The lights were on and the train was moving.

"What happened?" Harry asked. He was shivering; he couldn't seem to get warm. Everyone was staring at him.

"Eat this," Remus said, putting a hand under Harry's shoulder and helping him into a sitting position. "It'll make you feel better." Then he forced a chocolate frog into Harry's hand.

"What was that thing?" Harry asked.

"It was a dementor. Nasty things, they are. They feed on emotions, especially happy ones." Remus told him.

"That's a dementor?" Harry asked. Suddenly, he had a new appreciation for how horrible Azkaban must be. Maybe he didn't blame Pettigrew for wanting to escape.

"Go on, eat the chocolate frog. It'll make you feel better." Remus ordered.

Harry took a bite of the frog and, as promised, immediately felt better. He felt warmth spread across his body and was able to stop shivering.

"I'm going to speak to the conductor. You all stay put," Remus said in a voice that was not to be disobeyed. When he was gone, Ron and Neville each took one of Harry's hands and pulled him to his feet.

"What happened?" Harry asked again.

It was Ron who spoke. "Well, that thing, the dementor, came in here and you went all pale and passed out. Then you started screaming. Mr. Lupin made it leave. He told it that none of us was hiding Peter Pettigrew under our cloaks and then he cast a spell at it, and it left. Then he made us all eat chocolate frogs and that's about when you woke back up."

"Who screamed?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean?" Neville asked.

"I heard a woman screaming," Harry said.

"No one screamed," Hermione told him, looking at him a bit funny. "Only you."

"Did anyone else pass out?" Harry asked.

The others shook their heads in unison.

"Great," Harry said, plopping down into the seat and dropping his head against the window. The rain on the moors was a perfect complement to his dark mood. Remus never came back, and the friends spoke few words until they arrived at Hogwarts, when Harry finally found something to feel thankful for: he was thankful that he was not a first year and would not have to ride the boats across the lake tonight. Instead, he hopped into a warm and dry carriage with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville. When they closed the door, the carriage took off on its own towards Hogwarts without any visible prompting and without anything pulling it.

The warmth of the carriage left them the moment they stepped outside of it. They all ran toward the entrance hall, but did not find much warmth there, either. Peeves, the Hogwarts Poltergeist, was busy dropping water balloons on the heads of the incoming students. Harry got hit in the head within moments of stepping inside. Ron and Hermione were drenched by the spray.

"Peeves!" McGonagall's voice echoed sternly through the hall. Peeves floated away, blowing her a raspberry as he went. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, a word please," McGonagall said briskly. She was a stern witch who taught transfiguration and was also the head of Gryffindor house. Harry and Hermione followed her to her office. Ron promised to save them both a seat and made his way into the Great Hall.

"Mr. Potter, how are you feeling?" McGonagall asked. "Professor Lupin told me what happened on the train."

"I'm fine, thank you." Harry said. He couldn't decide if he resented that she was checking up on him or if he was touched that she cared enough to ensure his well-being. "Remus gave me some chocolate, and it made me feel loads better."

"I'm glad to see we have a Defense teacher who knows his remedies. Chocolate is the only known antidote to the effects of a dementor. And by the way, don't forget to call him Professor Lupin in the future." McGonagall gave him a knowing smile.

"Oh, right. I won't," Harry said, forcing himself to smile back.

"There was one more thing I needed to discuss with you. You haven't chosen your third-year classes yet. You'll need to do so by breakfast tomorrow. Here's a list." She handed him a list of classes. Harry took a moment to look over it. His choices were Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, or Muggle Studies. "You'll need to choose at least two, but some students choose three." Harry nodded his understanding, already knowing he would not be one of the students choosing three.

"How do you decide?" Harry asked.

"It depends on what you're interested in, and on what you'd like to do when you leave Hogwarts."

"I want to play quidditch when I leave Hogwarts. What should I take for that?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," McGonagall said with a small laugh. "You don't have to make a decision right now, you know. You've got all evening to decide. Go on to the feast and think about it a bit."

Harry trudged toward the Great Hall. By the time he got there, the sorting was over and the feast had begun. He tried to look inconspicuous as he entered, but he could feel every eye on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco Malfoy pantomime screaming and falling to the floor. Harry felt his temper surge. Why did these things always have to happen to him? He walked quickly and then ducked his head as he took his seat by Ron and began filling his plate huffily. Sensing Harry's dark mood, Ron said nothing. Hermione appeared about halfway through the feast and joined them but would not answer Ron's questions about what McGonagall had wanted from her.

When the feast was over, Dumbledore stood and raised his hands for silence, which he immediately got. "Welcome to Hogwarts!" He said. "As you are no doubt all aware by now, Hogwarts is playing host this year to the dementors of Azkaban. I assure you this is only a temporary arrangement until Peter Pettigrew is found. I also wish to assure you that they will not be allowed on the school grounds. I must warn you, however, that dementors are not to be trifled with. They will be posted outside the gates and at all the entrances to the school, and I do mean all. Dementors are not easily fooled by tricks. You cannot get past them with spells or potions, or even invisibility cloaks." Harry could never quite be sure, but for a moment he thought he saw Dumbledore glance his way.

Dumbledore continued. "It is not in their nature to be understanding or forgiving, so I urge you to give them no reason to harm you. I have a few other announcements to make. We have two staff changes this year. First, I would like to introduce to you our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Remus Lupin." Remus stood and waved tiredly to polite applause from the student body. If he hadn't been in such a black mood, Harry might have given a cheer for him, but as it was, Harry did not particularly feel like cheering.

Dumbledore continued when the applause had died down. "And our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Kettleburn, retired at the end of last year in order to spend some quality time with his remaining limbs. The new teacher will be none other than our very own Rubeus Hagrid." The hall, with the sole exception of the Slytherin table, began to shout and clap. Hagrid stood so suddenly he knocked his glass of pumpkin juice into Sirius's lap. Seeing that made Harry laugh and he felt his dark mood release a little as he joined in the applause. Toward the end, he even let out a tiny cheer.

Finally, Dumbledore held out his hands to quiet the students. He proceeded to give his yearly warnings about the Forbidden Forest being off limits and about banned items in the corridors. Then he released the students to their common rooms. Harry rushed out of the hall with Ron and Hermione thinking of nothing except the warm clothes and roaring fire that were waiting for him in Gryffindor tower.


	7. Advice and Adventures

_Warning for a very bad pun. I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist. ;-)_

* * *

When Harry got to the common room and got into dry clothes, the first thing he did was use his mirror to call his dad. "I have to pick classes," he said miserably.

"Oh, right, I'd forgotten about that," James said. "Well, what interests you?"

"Quidditch," Harry answered quickly. James laughed.

"I meant what interests you enough that you think you'd like to do it once you leave school."

"Quidditch." Harry answered again, more forcefully. James laughed harder.

"I wish there were a quidditch class. My last few years at Hogwarts would have been much more enjoyable if there were."

"What did you take?"

"I took Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes, and Muggle Studies to make Sirius's mum mad."

"How would you taking Muggle Studies make Sirius's mum mad?" Harry asked.

"Well, Sirius took it to make his mum mad. I took it to keep him company. It was interesting, though. I don't know that you'd need it per se. You already know quite a lot about muggles, but I think you'd enjoy Ancient Runes. It's quite fascinating. And you learn some great spells that way. The one I taught you last year to make the snowballs that spell out naughty words when they splat? The Vikings came up with that one. That's where I learned it."

"Brilliant!" Harry said, a mischievous grin forming on his face.

"It's not necessarily an easy course," James cautioned. "You have to work at it, but the payoff is well worth it."

"I'll take that." Harry said quickly. "What else?"

"Care of Magical Creatures is the only other one I can tell you about. It was interesting enough, I suppose, but I dropped it after O.W.L.s."

"Hagrid's teaching it this year."

"Then I don't want you taking it."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid's not that bad."

"He'll have you babysitting dragons or chimeras or hippogriffs or something!" James protested.

"He's not that thick, Dad," Harry said, stifling a laugh at James's reaction.

"Have you met him?" James asked, his voice rising humorously. "He's mental! I like him, but he's mental."

"Maybe I'll take a leaf out of Sirius's book and take it just to make you mad."

James laughed. "I suppose I deserved that. I won't be mad if you take it. Just keep your distance if he shows you a chimera. They can shoot flames up to forty feet. They're worse than dragons, if you can believe it."

"Thanks for the advice, Dad. I think I'm going to go ask Sirius and Remus what they think I should take."

"Aren't you supposed to be staying put in your common room?"

"Yes, but when has that ever stopped me before?"

James laughed.

"On second thought," Harry said, "maybe I won't go see Remus. He'll probably decide that I need the rules, and the reasoning behind them, explained to me in great detail, and I do want to get _some_ sleep tonight."

"Oh, don't let him fool you," James said with a knowing smile. "He talks a big game, but he's got a mischievous streak a mile wide."

"Really?" Harry asked. "I think you're pulling my leg."

"No, I'm not. I swear. When we were young, he used to come up with all the best ideas. Sirius and I came up with ideas more often, but whenever Remus came up with something, it was sure to be epic. There was one night in our fifth year he came up with the idea to take the seats off every toilet in the castle and tie them all to the Whomping Willow. The Herbology professor back then was a chap called Grayson, and he was mad, let me tell you. Took him hours to get them down, and then of course Filch had to put them all back on the toilets. Then it turned out about ten of them were missing. We never did figure out where they'd gone, although I suspected Sirius had kept a stash for good measure. All in all, it was two whole weeks before everything was back to normal."

"How did you keep from getting splatted by the Whomping Willow?" Harry asked when he had finished laughing.

"It was a lot smaller then, and we knew some pretty good spells."

"Did you get caught?"

"No, that was the best part. No one ever figured out it was us, although I think McGonagall suspected. She pretty much always suspected us, but so long as it wasn't dangerous, she didn't push too hard for a confession, which was a good thing because Wormtail would always cave under the slightest pressure. Keeping him quiet was half the battle. Our second year, Sirius got so mad at him he learned confundus and started casting it on him every time we got called in to McGonagall's office just for good measure."

"Sirius says you used to cave under the slightest pressure," Harry pointed out.

"He's lying. I could hold my own." James said with a laugh, "The only time I'd cave was when I felt guilty. McGonagall figured out pretty quick that I'm an awful liar, though, so if she couldn't get anything out of Wormtail, she'd start drilling me. I got to where I'd just stare at the ground all the time so she couldn't see my face. That helped. A few times, Sirius threatened to confund me, too, but he never did. At least, I don't think he did. I guess I wouldn't really know, would I?

"Sirius was good at getting us off if he could take the lead. He was brilliant at playing innocent, but he was nothing compared to Remus. He was always the good boy, so as soon as it got to the point that my face was about to give us away, Remus would turn this angelic expression on her and tell her we'd had nothing to do with it, and she would believe him. It was amazing to watch him work. He didn't think on his feet quite as quickly as Sirius, but he nearly always came through in a pinch. Probably saved us about a years' worth of detentions."

"I never would have guessed that," Harry said laughing.

"Of course. Did you think we just like him for his looks? He was brilliant, but he did have this very unfortunate tendency to chicken out at the last moment. If Sirius and I hadn't been there, I think all his good ideas would have just gone to waste. We were always able to talk him into going through with them. Then he'd blame us if it went wrong, like it was our fault."

"That sounds more like the Remus I know."

"He's not really as strict as he lets on. I think he's just trying to counteract Sirius's influence a little bit. I don't think he'll be too upset over you sneaking out. You are my son, after all."

"That's true. All right, I'll go see them both. But if he's mad at me, I'm going to come home and throw dungbombs at your head."

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

"Bye, Dad. Thanks."

Harry replaced his mirror in his trunk and grabbed his invisibility cloak. He made his way to Remus's quarters, reveling in the freedom the cloak gave him. He knocked on the door and didn't remove the cloak until Remus answered. Harry stepped inside and saw that Sirius was already there. That was convenient; it would save him the trouble of having to trek all the way up to the Astronomy Tower.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello, Harry, come in" Remus replied, smiling. "It's so good to see you. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, much, thank you. The chocolate really did the trick."

"So what brings you here, Pronglet?" Sirius asked.

"I wanted some advice about classes. I've got to choose by tomorrow." Harry said.

"Well, what are you interested in?" Remus asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. He was getting tired of this question. "I want to play quidditch, but they don't have any classes for that. I already talked to Dad. He thinks I should take Ancient Runes."

"Ancient Runes is a sound choice. That's what I took, along with Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures." Remus said.

"What's Arithmancy like?" Harry asked.

"It's interesting, but very complicated. I loved it. I got a N.E.W.T. in it even though I knew by then I probably wouldn't be using it. I just didn't want to drop it."

"What did you take, Sirius? Besides Muggle Studies?"

"I wanted to be an auror, so I reckoned it didn't much matter. You don't need any of the third year classes for that. I just took the same things your dad was taking. We had great fun, especially in the classes without Remus."

"Gee, thanks," Remus muttered.

"Well, you were sort of a killjoy, always telling us to be quiet and listen. As if the professor could possibly have anything important to say." Sirius retorted.

"And what do you do now when people are talking in your class?" Remus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I don't allow it at all, but that's different. I'm interesting. And Astronomy is dead useful." Sirius replied airily.

"Excuse me," Harry interrupted. "We were talking about me."

"Oh, sorry Pronglet. How silly of us to forget." Sirius said with a smile.

"I still don't know what to take," Harry told them. "I think I'll take Ancient Runes. Dad says I'll learn some good spells that way."

"That's not the reason you should take a class," Remus said.

"That's the best possible reason to take a class." Sirius returned. "Why don't you find out what Ron and Hermione are taking? That might help you decide."

"Okay, I'll do that," Harry told them. "You want to play exploding snap before I go?"

"Do I?" Sirius asked, "Remus, do you have a deck?"

"Yes, I do, but shouldn't you be getting back to your common room?" Remus asked.

"You know, Remus, if you don't stop picking on him, he'll never sneak out of his common room to see you again." Sirius told his friend.

"Well, that would be a shame," Remus said. "I was looking forward to midnight visits from you."

"Are you serious?" Harry asked.

"No, I am," Sirius said. "Did you catch something out in the rain tonight? Have you forgotten which of us is which?"

"Ignore him, Harry," Remus said, rolling his eyes. "Of course I expect you to visit me. In fact, I'd be disappointed if you didn't. It's not like a don't know you sneak around the castle at night. We used to do the same thing on a regular basis, and I don't see the harm in it."

Harry was flabbergasted. He hadn't entirely believed his dad until this moment. "Although, I do think you should get back sooner rather than later tonight. You've had a hard day; you should get some rest. Besides, you don't want to be falling asleep in class tomorrow."

"You were doing so well until that last bit, Moony." Sirius said, laughing and shaking his head. "This is why I'm your favorite, right Pronglet?"

"Oh, no, I'm not answering that!" Harry said quickly, shaking his head furiously. "I love you both."

"A very diplomatic response," Remus said approvingly. Then he turned to Sirius, "and we both know it means I'm his favorite."

"Doubtful," Sirius said, winking at Harry. "Come on, then, let's play."

They played exploding snap until Harry was nearly falling asleep where he sat. Then he trudged back to his common room and crawled into bed.


	8. Grims and Grimaces

The next morning on their way to the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry asked Ron and Hermione what they were taking. Ron told him he would be taking Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. Hermione told him she was taking everything.

"I thought we were only allowed to take three," Harry said.

"I've fixed it with Professor McGonagall," she said breezily.

"Have you decided what classes you'll be taking?" McGonagall asked Harry when she came around to hand out the schedules.

Harry made a snap decision to follow Sirius's advice and take they same classes as Ron. "Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, and Ancient Runes," he told her.

"Wonderful," she said, smiling. She quickly handed him a schedule.

At breakfast, Harry had a look at Hermione's schedule. "How are you going to do this?" Harry asked. "Look, you've got classes scheduled at the same time. You're supposed to be in both Divination and Arithmancy next."

"I told you," Hermione said dismissively. "I've fixed it with Professor McGonagall. So, do you think England's going to win the world cup this year?"

"They've got a good chance. It's the best team they've had in a long while." Ron said.

"They'll never beat Ireland," Seamus Finnigan put in. "Aidan Lynch is the best quidditch player I've ever seen."

"He's nothing compared to Viktor Krum," Harry said. "I think he'll take Bulgaria to the world cup single-handedly."

Neither Seamus nor Ron could argue with that. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as the talk of quidditch took the heat off of her. Boys were so predictable.

After breakfast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way out of the Great Hall. They all had Divination. Harry turned along the way to say something to Hermione, but she wasn't there.

"Where'd Hermione go? She was here a moment ago," Harry said to Ron.

"Who knows? Maybe she forgot something," Ron said.

"Should we wait for her?" Harry asked.

"No, she can find Divination same as we can. Let's just go. That way we can save her a seat."

Divination was in a high tower. The only way to get there was a trap door in the ceiling that they could not access, so they joined the throng of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws waiting for someone to let them in. Harry was surprised to see Hermione there waiting for them.

"How'd you get here so fast?" He asked.

"I don't know what you mean," she said. "I do wish someone would let us in."

Just as Harry was starting to wonder if he should go get someone, the door suddenly opened and a ladder descended. The students rushed up it and found a room filled with tables and squashy chairs. Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Neville rushed to get a table together. The room was oddly decorated, with cloths on the windows and lamps that gave the light a muted quality. It was also very hot, and the smell of incense hung in the air. Harry looked around for the professor.

"Welcome, my dear children," said an ephemeral voice. Harry turned and saw that the teacher had appeared from a small doorway off to the side of the room. Probably her private quarters, Harry reckoned. She was tall and wearing sequined robes and bangles that tinkled when she walked. She wore thick glasses that made her eyes look overlarge. Harry got the impression that he was looking at a large, glittering insect. "It's so good to see you in the physical world at last. My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Trelawny continued to speak in her dewy voice, peppering her speech with predictions that amazed the class. Harry felt sleepy. He mentally kicked himself for staying up so late the night before, but he had been having so much fun with Sirius and Remus. He was just nodding off when Hermione elbowed him. Harry jerked awake and noticed that everyone was up and moving around.

"Whazzat?" Harry asked.

"We're getting tea cups. We're supposed to read the leaves," Hermione whispered.

"You, dear," Professor Trelawney said, taking Neville by the arm, "after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink. By the by, is your grandmother well?"

"I-I think so," Neville said.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Trelawny told him as he reached for a pink cup. He immediately dropped it on the floor, where it shattered beautifully. Trelawny floated over to him with a broom and a dustpan. "One of the blue ones, then, please, if you wouldn't mind, dear," she said, smiling.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville sipped their tea dutifully. Harry was thankful for something to do to keep him awake. After he had finished, Hermione told him how he was supposed to swish the cup a certain way, then turn it upside down in the saucer and examine the dregs using their book to interpret the symbols. Harry did so. "I've got a sort of wonky cross," he told her. "What does that mean?"

Hermione shrugged, looking skeptically at her own cup. "I don't think it means anything. I don't think any of this means anything," she said, raising one eyebrow. The look she was giving was so similar to the looks he had seen Remus give so often that Harry laughed.

"I shouldn't be laughing if I were you, dear," Trelawny said, floating over to Harry. "Let me see your cup. Oh dear," she said, turning the cup this way and that. "Oh, dear, dear, this is not a happy cup."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"The falcon," she said. "You have a deadly enemy."

"Everyone knows that," Hermione muttered.

"The club," Trelawny continued, as though Hermione hadn't spoken. "An attack."

"I thought that was a bowler hat," Harry said under his breath to Hermione.

"The skull, danger in your path," Trelawny continued. The class was hanging on her every word.

Trelawny gave a the cup a final turn and then screamed. There was another tinkle of china as Neville dropped his second cup. Trelawny sank into an empty armchair. "My dear," she whispered. "You have the grim."

Ron gasped.

"The grim?" Hermione asked. "What's the grim."

"The grim, my dear, the grim," Trelawny said, her voice rising, "is a powerful omen, the worst omen, of certain death."

The class gasped.

"Oh, honestly," Hermione grumbled.

Trelawny glared at her. "My dear, you will excuse me for saying so, but you have very little aura around you."

"Why am I not surprised?" Hermione asked darkly.

"Harry, it's obvious she's a fraud," Hermione said as they made their way to Transfiguration. "She's all smoke and mirrors. I wouldn't worry if I were you."

"I don't know, Harry," Ron said. "I had an uncle once who saw a grim and he dropped dead the very next day.

"And it couldn't have been coincidence?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"No, it couldn't," Ron snapped.

Hermione looked as though she would like to respond but thought better of it. They wandered into Transfiguration and took seats in the back. McGonagall was nowhere to be seen, but a large gray tabby cat sat at her desk. Still, no one spoke. She might come in at any moment and no one wanted to get on her bad side this early in the year. Suddenly the cat gave a loud "Mrow!" and leapt off the desk, changing into Professor McGonagall in mid air. The class stared at her, shocked.

"What's the matter with you?" McGonagall asked. "That's the first time my transformation's not gotten applause from the class."

"Please, Professor," Parvati Patil said. "We've just come from Divination."

"Oh, I see, and which of you will be dying this year?"

"Me," Harry said glumly, raising his hand.

"Potter. Why am I not surprised? I wouldn't worry about it too much. Professor Trelawny has been teaching here for fourteen years, and she's predicted the death of a student every year. Not a one of them has died yet."

Hermione snorted. The rest of the class looked shocked that McGonagall was being so callous. She launched straight into her lecture about human transfiguration.

Their next class was Astronomy, where Sirius made a similar observation about how subdued they all were. No one was laughing at his jokes.

"Professor Trelawny says I'm going to die," Harry told him forlornly.

"Of course she did," Sirius said with a smile. "The woman feeds on misery. She's probably beside herself having you in her class. If it weren't for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues, well, never mind. You appear to be in good health, so you'll excuse me if I don't let you off your homework. I assure you, if you die, I won't expect you to hand it in."

Harry gave a small laugh. "That's the spirit, Mr. Potter, laugh in the face of death!" Sirius said, lifting his fists triumphantly. "Now, back to Halley's comet."

After Astronomy they had lunch, followed by Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins. Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined the throng of students standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest just before class was to start.

"That great oaf teaching classes; this place is really going to the dogs," they heard Malfoy saying loudly as they walked up. "Just wait until my father hears about this. I bet he lasts less than a week before my father has him chucked out of here."

"His father can't do a damn thing about it," Harry whispered to Ron and Hermione.

"Harry!" Hermione said sternly.

"What?" Harry asked innocently.

"Does your dad let you talk like that?" She asked.

"I don't know. I've never asked him," Harry said thoughtfully. "He might."

"I doubt that very much," she said as Hagrid walked up.

"Hello class, got a special treat fer yeh today! Now everyone open yer books!"

"How are we supposed to do that exactly?" Malfoy asked sneeringly. Their books were entitled _The Monster Book of Monsters_ and had a tendency to start eating themselves, and everything else they could get to, unless they were tied shut. Harry's own book had a rope around it. As other students took their books out of their bags, it became clear that everyone's was tied with something - shoelaces, belts. Someone's was even tied with something that looked very much like a curtain sash. Hermione's was tied with large amounts of dental floss.

"Yeh have ter stroke 'em." Hagrid said, his face falling as he realized that no one had discovered the trick. He demonstrated on his own book, which obediently fell open in his hand as he stroked the spine.

"Oh, stroke them!" Malfoy said sarcastically. "Why didn't I think of that as it was trying to eat me?"

"Shut up, Malfoy." Harry said loudly. "Just because you were too stupid to figure it out isn't Professor Hagrid's fault."

"I notice you didn't figure it out either, Potter." Malfoy retorted

"But I'm not whinging about it, am I?" Harry shot back.

"Stop it, you two," Hagrid said loudly, sounding unsure of himself. "Now everyone open your books."

Everyone obeyed, although Malfoy kept up a steady stream of muttering under his breath. The only part Harry could make out was, "my father". Harry was considering hexing him while Hagrid's back was turned, but finally decided not to out of respect for Hagrid, who had stepped into the Forbidden Forest. He emerged a moment later with a herd of animals Harry had only seen in books. They had the front legs, wings, and head of an eagle and the back end of a horse.

"Who can tell me what these are?" Hagrid asked. Harry raised his hand. "Harry!" Hagrid called.

"They're hippogriffs," Harry said, already thinking of the reaction his dad would have to this if Harry were dense enough to tell him, which he wasn't. Only the evening before, he had been assuring his dad that even Hagrid wouldn't bring a hippogriff to class. Now it appeared he would be eating his words.

"Tha's right," Hagrid said. "Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud. Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do. Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move. It's polite, see? Yeh walk towards him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed to touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt. This one here's called Buckbeak. Harry, why don't yeh come see how yeh get on with him."

Harry stepped forward uncertainly and bowed. Buckbeak regarded him haughtily, but made no move to bow.

"Yeh'll want to back away, Harry, quick now" Hagrid said swiftly, and Harry was just moving to do so when Buckbeak bent his knees in a small bow.

"Excellent, Harry! Excellent. Yeh can pet his beak." Harry reached out and touched his beak, trying not to think about how sharp and cruel it looked. He looked into the creature's eyes and decided it was beautiful, in a wild, proud, utterly terrifying sort of way.

"I think he might let yeh ride him," Hagrid said enthusiastically.

"Oh, no, I don't think so," Harry said, but Hagrid was already lifting him onto Buckbeak's back. Harry's stomach flip-flopped as Buckbeak took off.

"Now, mind yeh, don't pull his feathers. He won't thank yeh for that!" Hagrid called. Harry closed his eyes and decided he much preferred broomsticks. He was relieved when Buckbeak landed and Hagrid lifted Harry of his back. "Five points for Gryffindor!" Hagrid said. "Now, the rest of yeh see how it's done. Approach your hippogriffs and bow."

The students fanned out and began approaching various hippogriffs one at a time. Malfoy went up to Buckbeak and bowed. Buckbeak bowed back and Malfoy came and stood too close. "You're not dangerous at all, are you?" Malfoy asked. "I bet you've never hurt anyone, you big, ugly brute."

Buckbeak reared on his back legs and roared, slashing Malfoy's arm as he came back down. Malfoy immediately fell to the ground.

"He's killed me!" Malfoy wailed.

"Yeh're not killed!" Hagrid said, helping him to his feet. "Come on, let's get yeh to the hospital wing. The rest of yeh go on inside."

"Malfoy did that on purpose," Harry said angrily as he walked toward the castle with Ron and Hermione. "Hagrid said not to insult them, and he didn't listen."

"What a git," Ron said. They waited for Hermione to say something, but she didn't. When they turned around to see that she was still behind them, they didn't see her. She was gone again. They could still see the hippogriffs milling around at the edge of the forest, and Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

"Where'd she go?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," Harry said. "There's something very odd going on here. At lunch, Seamus said she was in Arithmancy this morning, but she couldn't have been because she was in Divination with us at the same time."

"Do you think she's managed to learn a spell that lets her be in two places at once?" Ron asked.

"I don't think there is such a spell. Although if there was, she'd be the one to learn it." Harry said as they reached the castle.

That night after dinner, Harry, Ron, and Hermione donned the invisibility cloak and went to check on Hagrid. They found him in his hut holding a nearly-empty bottle of firewhiskey and crying loudly. "I'm going ter be sacked!" He wailed when he saw Harry and his friends.

"No you won't," Hermione assured him. "Malfoy provoked Buckbeak. We'll tell anyone who wants to know that that's how it happened."

"Yeh three are good friends!" Hagrid said, hiccuping and taking another sip of firewhiskey. His eyes landed on Harry. "Yeh're jus like yer dad, Harry. Good man, yer dad."

"Thanks," Harry said, his chest swelling with pride at the compliment. Growing up to be like his dad was his highest hope.

"I don' think he'd be happy ter know yeh were here!" Hagrid said suddenly. "Yeh shouldn't be sneaking out. It's not safe now Pettigrew's on the loose!"

"We've got the cloak," Ron said.

"Tha's no excuse!" Hagrid said loudly. "I'm a teacher now, I've got ter make sure yeh behave! Come on, we're going back ter the castle, and I don't let me catch yeh sneakin' out again!"

Hagrid walked them back to the castle and left them with a stern warning to stay there. Then he stumbled back to his hut. "Do you think he'll be all right?" Hermione asked.

"I hope so," Harry said.

"Do you think he'll be sacked?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," Harry said quietly. "Come on, I think I'd like to see Sirius." Together, the three of them trudged up to the Astronomy tower to be cheered up by their favorite professor.


	9. Boggarts and Braggarts

The following morning, the third year Gryffindors had History of Magic, followed by double Potions with the Slytherins. "Why do we always have to have potions with them?" Harry whinged at breakfast. "As if class with Snape isn't bad enough, we always have to have it with Malfoy, too."

"Maybe he won't be there today," Ron said hopefully. "Maybe Buckbeak killed him after all."

"Ron, that's not very nice," Hermione said.

"He's not very nice," Ron shot back. "Pity his mother likes him."

Harry let out a small snort of laughter.

Malfoy was in potions after all, with his arm bandaged dramatically.

"Does it hurt awfully?" Pansy Parkinson, a pug-faced Slytherin girl, asked sympathetically before class began.

"Yes, it's very bad," Malfoy replied gravely. "Madame Pomfrey said I'm lucky to be alive after such a vicious attack, but I'm trying to be brave." The Slytherin girls surrounding him began to fawn over him sympathetically. Harry thought he might gag.

"As if anyone ever died from a scratched arm," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Potter, five points from Gryffindor for talking," Snape said as he walked into the room. Harry looked around. Every other person in the room had been talking at the same time he was. Now, of course, they were all deathly quiet. Snape had that effect on people.

"We were all talking!" Harry protested.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for your relentless cheek," Snape sneered. "Keep it up and you'll be joining me in detention."

Harry glared but said nothing. Snape glared back. "It's good to see you're finally learning some manners, Potter." Snape snarled.

"Hark who's talking," Harry muttered under his breath.

"What was that, Potter?" Snape asked.

"I said, 'Hark who's talking'," Harry repeated loudly, looking unabashedly in Snape's face. Beside him, Ron groaned and Hermione dropped her head into her hand.

"Detention, I think, Potter. You can join me tomorrow at seven o'clock."

Class continued on while Harry brooded in the back. When the time came to make their potion, he chopped his ingredients angrily. On one side of him, Ron was meticulously shredding his ingredients and on the other side, Hermione was already dumping hers into her cauldron. They both shot him occasional sympathetic glances, but neither of them spoke to him and he was glad. He didn't want their sympathy. He wanted to be able to fume in peace. On the other side of the room, Malfoy was telling the class loudly that his father would be getting Hagrid sacked any day now. Harry noted with growing fury that Snape wasn't making any move to force Malfoy to stop talking. He wasn't even making Malfoy brew his own potion. The other students were being forced to do it for him.

"How's it coming, Malfoy?" Snape asked.

"I need help chopping my ingredients," Malfoy said, holding his arm and wincing loudly.

"Weasley! Come chop up Malfoy's ingredients!" Snape barked.

Ron got up huffily and quickly chopped Malfoy's ingredients.

"He did it all wrong," Malfoy whinged when Ron had finished.

Snape looked and then ordered Ron to trade ingredients with Malfoy. With a huff of protest, Ron gave Malfoy the ingredients that he had worked so hard to get perfect. Then he threw himself back in his own chair with his new ingredients and began work on trying to salvage them.

"Greasy git," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that, Weasley?" Snape asked.

Ron looked up at him and decided to follow Harry's example. At least they'd be in detention together. "I said 'Greasy Git'," Ron snarled. Beside him, Harry bit his lip so he wouldn't laugh.

"Another for detention, then." Snape said, smiling sinisterly. "Tomorrow night at seven o'clock."

"Why do you goad him?" Hermione whispered. "You know what's going to happen."

"Sometimes we can't resist," Harry whispered back.

"And sometimes it's just worth it," Ron muttered.

After lunch, they had Defense Against the Dark Arts with Remus. Harry was nervous about this class. He still wasn't sure what to expect from Remus in class. Sirius had warned him to behave himself because Remus was likely to go harder on him than the other students. Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their normal seats in the back.

"Good afternoon, class." Remus said when they had arrived. "I am Professor Lupin, and today we are taking a field trip. Gather your things."

There was a scurry as everyone took their satchels and followed Remus out of the hall. He led them to the staff room, where Professor Snape was sitting reading a potions book.

"What's all this?" Snape asked, glaring at Remus.

"Just a demonstration on boggarts." Remus told him, then he turned to the class. "Who can tell me what a boggart is?"

Hermione raised her hand, and Remus called on her. "It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It turns into whatever we most fear."

"Precisely. Five points for Gryffindor!" Remus said. "They like dark closed-in places like closets or under beds. When I was a boy, we got one in our grandfather clock. There's one in this cupboard. I discovered it yesterday and decided that it would be a perfect first lesson for my third years." At exactly that moment, the cupboard rattled menacingly.

"I'd be careful, Professor Lupin," Snape sneered, putting down his book and standing. "In case you hadn't heard, this class contains one Neville Longbottom. He is nearly guaranteed to make a mess out of the simplest of tasks."

"As a matter of fact, I was thinking Mr. Longbottom would be well-suited for this demonstration."

"It's your funeral," Snape said, leaving the room.

"Mr. Longbottom, step forward please."

Neville did so, looking nervous.

"No one knows what a boggart looks like when it's alone," Remus told them. "As soon as it sees us, it will choose a form, but we have an advantage. Can anyone guess why?"

Lavender Brown raised her hand. "Because there are so many of us. It won't know what to turn into."

"Yes, exactly! I was fighting a boggart with two of my mates once when it got confused. Turned into something that was half a troll and half a snake. Not very frightening at all. The thing that boggarts can't stand is laughter. So the trick is to turn it into something funny. The incantation is "riddikulus". Everyone practice that a moment." The class obeyed while Remus started whispering to Neville. After a few minutes, he called the class back to order.

"Now, I want you to line up and think of what most scares you, then think of a way to make it funny. When it's your turn, say the incantation and watch the fun. Mr. Longbottom, you'll go first. Just remember what I told you."

Neville nodded, looking determined. Harry could have hugged Remus right in front of everyone for building Neville up. He only hoped it wouldn't backfire. Remus released the boggart and it stepped out of the closet looking like Professor Snape. Neville paled.

"Remember your grandmother's clothes," Remus said quickly.

"Riddikulus," Neville shouted, pointing his wand at the boggart. There was a loud crack and suddenly Snape was wearing robes with pink flowers on them and a hat with a moth-eaten vulture on top. The class burst into laughter.

"Wonderful, well done Mr. Longbottom! Five points for Gryffindor!" Remus said encouragingly. "Who's next?"

Harry was at the end of the line furiously thinking of a way to make a dementor funny. He hadn't come up with anything when his turn came. Ron had just turned the boggart into a legless spider. Harry took a deep breath and stepped up to face the boggart. He was hoping that last minute inspiration would hit when Remus stepped in front of him. The boggart changed into a glowing orb. "Riddikulus!" Remus said, and it disappeared with a loud crack.

"That was wonderful, class, simply wonderful. Tonight for homework, I want you to read and summarize the chapter on boggarts. Hand it in next class. You are dismissed."

"Remus," Harry asked when the rest of the class had gone. "Why didn't you let me fight the boggart?"

"I would have thought that would be obvious, Harry," Remus said. "Can you imagine the panic if it had turned into Lord Voldemort?"

"I wasn't thinking of him," Harry said. He shuddered thinking of the dementor's scabby hand. "I was thinking of a dementor."

Remus looked at him appraisingly. "That suggests that what you fear most is... fear. Very wise, Harry. Very wise, indeed."

"Why do they affect me so much?" Harry asked.

"I would imagine it's because you've had so much tragedy," Remus said sadly. "You've been through quite a bit more than your average thirteen-year-old."

"Don't remind me," Harry said. "When I was near the dementor on the train, I heard a woman screaming. Do you think it was my mother?"

"I don't know," Remus replied. "It's possible. Dementors force us to relive our worst memories over and over and over again, so it wouldn't surprise me if it were. I'm so sorry you had to experience that."

"Azkaban must be really awful," Harry said forlornly.

"Yes," Remus agreed. "Many witches and wizards who go there die after a few months. The ones that don't die usually go insane."

"I don't know that I blame Pettigrew for wanting to escape. I think I'd want to escape, too, if I were there."

Remus put an arm around Harry's shoulder and gave him a comforting squeeze.

"Do you think they'll ever catch Pettigrew?" Harry asked softly, looking up at Remus.

"I think so," Remus replied. "It's only a matter of time."

"Do you think I should be afraid of him?"

Remus took a deep breath. "I think you should be wary of him, yes. He's cunning, but the entire auror office is working its hardest to get him back into custody and to keep you safe in the meantime. So I wouldn't say you should be afraid, necessarily, but you shouldn't go looking for him, either."

"Why in the world would I go looking for him?" Harry asked.

Remus raised one eyebrow and gave Harry a wry smile. "Why in the world would you go looking for the Philosopher's Stone? Why in the world would you go looking for the monster in the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Those things were different," Harry said defensively. "I went looking for the Stone because someone was trying to steal it, and I fought the basilisk because it was trying to kill Ginny."

"The point I'm trying to make is that you have a bit of a history of rushing headfirst into situations without thinking it all the way through."

"Well, I'm not going to go looking for Pettigrew. I'm not mental." Harry retorted.

"Good, I'm glad. Do you have another class now?" Remus asked.

"No, I have a free hour."

"So do I. Would you like to join me for some tea? I hear you've had an interesting couple of days."

"Can we make it something besides tea?" Harry asked, following Remus out of the staff room. "Only my last cup of tea told me I'm going to die."

"I think I've also got some hot cocoa, and we're all going to die eventually." Remus replied easily.

"I'm going to drop dead at any moment," Harry informed him. "The tea says so, and the tea knows all."

"Well, I'm glad to have a heads up, then. That way I can begin to prepare myself." Remus said with a wink as they walked toward his office. Harry smiled. He was beginning to feel better, and he had a feeling that pouring his troubles out to Remus over hot cocoa would be just what he needed.

Remus's office was filled with strange creatures in cages and glass boxes. Harry looked around, fascinated, as Remus fixed him his cocoa.

"What are all these things?" He asked Remus.

"Well, the one's you're looking at now are Grindlylows, water demons. They try to pull people underwater and drown them. Your class is going to learn about them next. Most of these are on loan from the ministry. Here's your cocoa."

Harry took the cocoa and sipped it gratefully. "It's wonderful, thank you," he said as he slipped into a chair in front of Remus's desk.

"So, how was your day?" Remus asked.

"I have detention with Snape tomorrow," Harry responded.

"Yes, I heard. He told the whole staff about it at lunch. He was almost giddy. I thought Sirius was going to hex him," Remus said, sipping his tea.

"At least Ron's in it with me," Harry said glumly.

"That'll make it better," Remus said sympathetically. "What you said to him is true, you know. Idiotic, but true. He is a greasy git."

Harry choked on his cocoa.

"What?" Remus asked innocently. "It's the truth."

"Actually, Ron was the one who called him a git. I said he has no manners."

"Also true," Remus allowed. "But maybe not the smartest thing to have said to him. He does have the power to make you miserable, after all."

"Sometimes I can't help myself," Harry said with a shrug.

"I understand completely," Remus said. "I have to admit, working with him is not a picnic."

"Do you know why he hates Dad so much?" Harry asked.

"No, I never did. It was just one of those things. Although, to be fair, your dad hates him back. They were quite awful to one another. They used to hex one another in the corridors. There was one day, when we were third years, that Snape cast petrificus totalus on him at the top of the stairs. He would have fallen all the way down and probably been killed if Sirius hadn't levitated him to safety. The next day, your dad poured a whole bottle of ink in his satchel and ruined all his books and his homework.

"He ran straight to McGonagall, of course, and your dad ended up getting detention, but he told her about the spell on the stairs and Snape ended up in trouble as well. We never found out what happened to him; his own head of house took care of that, but the next day he moved like he was awfully sore, so we had a pretty good guess. He told everyone who would listen that your dad was a rat for telling as though he hadn't been the one who started it. We all hated him, really. Besides being a complete git, he was up to his eyeballs in dark arts, and we all hated the dark arts, especially your dad. He really couldn't stand them. Still can't, for that matter."

"But why does he always take it out on me?" Harry whinged.

"I wish I knew, Pup," Remus said sympathetically. "If I could make him stop, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"I know you would," Harry sighed. "I guess I'll just have to try to keep from losing my temper in his class."

"That's probably a good place to start," Remus said.

"How do you always stay so calm when you're mad?" Harry asked. "Whenever I get mad, it's like I can't control anything that comes out of my mouth."

"I don't know," Remus admitted. "I've always been that way. My mum was that way, too, so maybe it's genetic. Maybe you could try counting to ten; I've heard that helps some people."

"Maybe I'll try that," Harry said, smiling at Remus. "Your class really was brilliant," Harry said, changing the subject. "It's the best Defense Class we've ever had."

"Thanks," Remus said, smiling back. "You'll have to give me regular updates on how I'm doing."

"I will," Harry promised him. "But if you keep going like you did today, you're going to be everyone's favorite teacher before long."

"Sirius would never forgive me," Remus said.

"It's good for him to lose at something every once in awhile," Harry replied.

"I'm going to tell him you said that," Remus said, holding back a smile.

"Please don't," Harry said quickly. "He'll probably turn me into a cantaloupe weasel."

Remus laughed. "Maybe I'll tell him just to see that."

"You're evil," Harry said, joining in Remus's laughter. Having him here wasn't going to be so bad, Harry decided. It wasn't going to be so bad at all.


	10. Pub Pronouncements

When James went back to work, he felt much better than he had the week before. Taking the extra week to spend more time with Harry had been a smart decision. Now that he was paying attention, he seemed to be running into Bronwyn Llewellyn everywhere he went. They saw one another as they stepped out of the floo network in the morning. They passed in the halls. Every time he saw her, that jolt would go through his chest again, his stomach would fill with butterflies, and he would smile at her. She would always smile back. James wondered if they had always seen so much of each other and he had just never noticed before. On Friday, he found an excuse to go to the Improper Use of Magic Office and speak to her. It was all business, he assured himself, but when he got there, he found they spoke very little about business.

The next week, he found more excuses to visit her, and she began finding excuses to visit him as well. He was amazed by how comfortable he was around her. He seemed to crave her company. No woman since Lily had ever made him feel this way - hopeful and happy. Part of him felt guilty because he realized that when he was with Bronwyn he missed Lily much less than usual. He felt almost as though it was an insult to her memory for another woman to make him this happy. He had been in love with Lily since he was eleven years old. He had never had eyes for anyone else.

"I've met someone," James told Sirius and Remus in the Three Broomsticks that Saturday.

Sirius and Remus immediately perked up. This was certainly unexpected.

"Anyone we would know?" Remus asked.

"I don't know. Her name's Bronwyn Llewellyn, and she works in the Improper Use of Magic Office. I met her when I went to see if I could get Harry's record taken care of. I couldn't by the way. She completely outclassed me. It was a sight to behold. She was a year beneath us at Hogwarts, and she was in Ravenclaw. I never met her while we were in school though."

"She was at Hogwarts with us?" Sirius asked. "I do hope I never snogged her. That would be rather awkward for you, wouldn't it?"

"I'm sure she was far too smart to snog the likes of you. She has standards, you know."

"Apparently not, if she's interested in you," Sirius shot back.

"I don't actually know that she is," James admitted. "For all I know, she wishes I'd leave her be. I've been talking to her quite a lot lately and visiting her in her office. She's come to visit me a few times as well."

"If she's coming to visit you, she's definitely interested," Sirius said knowingly. "Are you going to ask her out?"

"No," James said quickly, then, "I don't know. I hadn't really thought much about it. I haven't dated since my school days," James admitted. "I wouldn't even know what to do on a date."

"That's rubbish. It hasn't changed that much," Sirius told him.

"And how many dates have you had?" Remus asked.

"Plenty," Sirius said indignantly.

"The better question might be how many second dates he's had, Moony." James said nonchalantly.

"Right. Then how many second dates have you had?" Remus asked with a wry smile.

"Significantly fewer," Sirius admitted. "Not that I couldn't have them if I wanted them. I just don't want to be tied down. There are far too many pretty girls out there to choose just one. I always reckoned I'd settle down when my looks start to fade. And maybe if I'm lucky, I'll age into one of those ruggedly handsome men and be able to get women into my eighties. Then I'll marry a twenty-year old and she'll take care of me when I start drooling on myself, and then I'll scandalize all the old families by leaving her all my gold."

"Settling down isn't so bad, you know," James said.

"Oh, it's all right for some people," Sirius said dismissively. "I'm just not one of them. It's important to know yourself, mate."

"So, James, as you were saying," Remus prodded.

"That's all, really. She's very pretty, and she's easy to talk to. She makes me laugh. Sometimes when I'm talking to her, I almost forget about how much I miss Lily, but then I feel guilty for forgetting about Lily because a man ought not to just forget his wife."

"It's been twelve years, Prongs," Sirius said, giving James a sympathetic look. "Liking someone else doesn't mean you love Lily any less."

"I know that," James said with a sigh, "I just can't seem to make my conscience understand it. It keeps telling me that I'm betraying Lily's memory by even remotely liking someone else. I feel like I'm having an affair or something."

"She wouldn't have wanted you to be lonely," Remus said comfortingly.

"No, she wouldn't. She even told me once that if anything were to ever happen to her, she would want me to find someone else. I told her that I never wanted anyone else, and I never did. "

"You know, I think people who truly loved once are far more likely to do it again." Sirius said. "Lily was a wonderful person. I still miss her, too, sometimes. But Remus is right. She would have wanted you to be happy. If this Bronwyn person makes you happy, and I can tell she does by the idiotic grin on your face, then you should go for it."

James gave a weak grimace. "Where would we go? I used to take Lily to Madame Puddifoot's, but I don't think I could stomach that place now. I barely could then."

"No, that place is definitely more appropriate for adolescents," Remus agreed. "What sorts of things does she like to do?"

"Sirius, what do you usually do on dates?" James asked.

"Erm..." Sirius said, blushing slightly.

"Forget I asked," James said quickly. "I don't know what sorts of things she likes. She used to play quidditch. She's always playing classical music whenever I go to her office. "

"You could take her to London to see the philharmonic. You know, there's that little witch who plays oboe with them. What's her name?" Remus asked.

"Evelyn, I think. I can't remember her last name. I remember her, though. She was always practicing in the dormitory." James added.

"I used to want to kill her," Sirius said. "She always seemed to practice more during exams. Maybe you could send her an owl, see if she'd give you a backstage tour."

"I don't know about this," James said, running his fingers through his hair nervously. "Things are awfully crazy right now, what with the search for Wormtail and everything. Maybe I should wait until after we catch him. Ask her out then."

"You're making excuses. There's no time like the present, Prongs," Sirius said, clapping James on the shoulder.

"What if Harry doesn't like her?"

"Harry doesn't like much of anything or anyone right now. He's thirteen." Sirius said, furrowing his brow.

"Is he still being awful?" James asked, furrowing his brow as well. "He was doing well the week before he left for school."

"He's not too bad. I've certainly seen worse. He's respectful in class, at least. That's better than most."

"I don't know what's happened to him," James said. "It's like he's a completely different person."

"My mother used to say that all children are kidnapped by aliens at the age of thirteen," Remus told his friends, "and then they're brought back when they're seventeen. She claimed to be able to remember it happening to her."

"She may have been on to something there," Sirius said. "All children are hideous at the age of thirteen. It's completely normal. Trust me, I've been dealing with thirteen-year-olds for eight years. Worse than that, I've been dealing with thirteen-year-old Slytherins. You think the Pronglet is bad?"

"If you don't like thirteen year olds, why are you teaching?" Remus asked.

"Oh, I never said I don't like them. I love them, actually. It's one of my favorite ages. I think people are more themselves when they're thirteen than they are at any other time in their lives. They're just getting to really know themselves and test out their abilities, but they're not old enough yet for shows or pretenses. It's really quite refreshing... when it's not obnoxious. I wouldn't worry about the Pronglet too much. When he's eighteen, all of a sudden he'll be coming to you to apologize for the way he's acting right now, provided you can keep from killing him, of course."

"I know. After all, I'm still ashamed of what I was like at thirteen. But that doesn't make it any easier." James said. "How's he doing aside from being a total prat?"

"He's fine," Remus said reassuringly. "I'm sure you heard about the hippogriff that attacked Malfoy."

James nodded. "Yes, I heard. Not twenty-four hours before that Harry assured me Hagrid wouldn't be so thick as to bring a hippogriff to class. You'd think by now he'd know Hagrid a bit better."

"He's furious about it." Remus reported. "He was in that class, and he says Malfoy deliberately provoked the hippogriff."

"If that's true, he's lucky he's not dead," James interrupted to say.

"Quite," Remus agreed.

"And he's having a time of it in Divination. Trelawny chooses one student to pick on every year, and this year, of course it would be Harry." Sirius put in.

"Naturally," James said. "Just what he needs, another teacher picking on him."

"Well, she doesn't pick on his the same way Snape does. She just keeps predicting his death." Remus offered.

"Lovely," James said, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

"He was pretty upset the first time, but I think I've managed to convince him that she's a fraud. He doesn't seem too bothered by her anymore." Sirius said.

"How are your classes going, Moony?" James asked.

"Well, I think. The students seem to like them," Remus said modestly.

"Are you joking?" Sirius asked, incredulous. "He's about to replace me as everyone's favorite teacher."

"I wouldn't go that far," Remus confessed. "I'm still a novelty, and they only like me because I show them icky things."

"If that were true, they'd like Snape. He's had the corner on icky for years."

"Well, Snape is a special breed of teacher," Remus said delicately.

"That's may very well be the most charitable way I've ever heard anyone word that." Sirius said, taking a sip of his butterbeer. "So, back to this woman, James, when are you going to ask her out?"

"I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't."

"I thought we had just established that you should." Remus said.

"No, we established that Harry probably won't like her," James pointed out.

"More excuses," Sirius said, waving his bottle of butterbeer to make a point. "I'll tell you what: you have a week to ask her out, and if you haven't done it by then, I'm going to get some polyjuice potion and do it for you."

"Wouldn't that be illegal?" James asked, raising his eyebrows. He had always wished he had Remus's ability to raise just one.

"Only a little, and besides, you would never turn me in," Sirius said dismissively. "So, we've decided. You'll have asked her out by the end of the week!"

"Why is it that whenever you decide something, you always claim that "we" decided it?" James asked.

"Because I'm the best decision-maker of the three of us, of course. I'm also the funniest, the best looking, and the most responsible." Sirius retorted.

Remus choked on his butterbeer at that last part.

"Good thing you're also the most humble," James said dryly.

"Isn't it just?" Sirius asked. He and James stared at each other as though each was waiting for a sign from the other. Then, almost as one, they both burst into loud laughter. People at the next table looked over at them, but they didn't notice.

"So, by the end of the week, then?" Sirius asked when he had caught his breath.

"I don't think I'm ready for that quite yet," James said sadly. "I need more time to think about it."

"Well, don't think about it too long, or I might just sweep her right out from under you." Sirius said, taking a sip of butterbeer nonchalantly. "You always did have excellent taste in women."


	11. Sports and Suspicion

Things moved apace in the castle. Harry observed that Remus was indeed becoming everyone's favorite teacher. As September moved into October, the third years were learning about Red Caps, who live on old battlefields and attempt to bludgeon people to death. As Halloween approached, the third years learned about hinkypunks, who attempt to lure travelers into bogs and get them hopelessly lost there.

The day before Halloween, Remus was in his office with his back to the door, engrossed in a book, when he heard James's voice behind him. "Hello, Remus."

Remus turned expecting to see James but found Harry there instead, a grin on his face. After months of cracking, his voice had finally dropped a full octave.

"I thought you were your dad," Remus told Harry.

"Sirius said the same thing," Harry said with a grin.

"Please, come in. Would you like some cocoa?" Remus asked. Harry still hadn't gotten back his taste for tea. They had established a regular pattern of meeting during their shared free period after Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Remus had begun keeping plenty of cocoa on hand for the boy, and it had quickly become something each of them looked forward to. Their last meeting had been just yesterday, when they angrily discussed the Ministry's decision to put Buckbeak on trial for attacking Malfoy.

"Cocoa would be lovely," Harry said, dropping his satchel and seating himself in the chair in front of Remus's desk.

"How was your Divination class today?" Remus asked.

"Trelawny says I'm going to fall from a height. She announced to the class that she's going to tell McGonagall to ban me from quidditch. Sirius says McGonagall won't listen."

"She won't," Remus assured him.

"I didn't think she would, so I didn't bother getting too upset about it. I get the feeling the other staff members don't respect Trelawney very much." Harry said confidentially.

"It's not that we don't respect her. It's just that Divination is a very..." Remus paused as though searching for the right word. When he had found it, he continued, "...inexact art. All prophecies should be taken with a grain of salt. For every one that comes true, there are probably fifty that don't. That's why you can't let prophecy run your life. And tea leaves are hardly dependable. You could drink two cups of tea back to back and come away with mutually exclusive readings. I have to admit, I've never had much use for Divination."

"Is that because you're afraid of crystal balls?" Harry asked.

"What?" Remus returned.

"Your boggart. It became a crystal ball. What, did you think I didn't notice?" Harry asked, sipping his cocoa.

"Oh, that, well, yes, I suppose I thought most of the class wouldn't figure out what that was."

Harry was just about to respond when Snape came in carrying a steaming goblet.

"You're not going to drink that, are you?" Harry asked skeptically when Snape had gone.

"I was planning to," Remus told him, sipping it and then making a face. "Awful," he said, grimacing.

"How do you know he's not trying to poison you?" Harry asked.

"If he were going to poison me, he'd be a little more subtle, I think. No, this potion is on the up-and-up. Trust me."

"What's it for?"

"That's a long story."

"Whenever I say something's a long story, my dad always says he's got time. If I can't use that as an excuse, you can't either." Harry said, smiling slyly at Remus.

"You know how I'm not always in the best of health?"

"Yes," Harry said, nodding, and hoping he was finally going to find out what was afflicting his father's friend.

"Well, the short version of the story is that this potion makes me feel better."

"I don't think I'd take anything Snape offered me."

"You would if you were sick and what Snape was giving you was the only thing you'd ever had that made it bearable."

"Do you mind if I ask what's wrong?"

"I don't mind at all. I won't tell you, though," Remus said, giving Harry a small smile. "I wouldn't want to frighten you." Then he winked at Harry, and Harry knew he was joking.

Halloween itself dawned clear and cool. Outside the castle, the trees were changing to rich reds and golds, looking like melted fire as they were reflected in the lake. At breakfast, Harry was surprised to see his owl, Hedwig, among the owls bringing in the post. Usually the only mail he got was from his father, and he usually used his own owl. Hedwig dropped a note onto his plate and ate a crust of toast before flying away again. The note, it turned out, was from Sirius, telling Harry to meet him in his quarters immediately after breakfast. Ron and Hermione got identical letters from school owls.

"What do you reckon?" Ron asked.

"We'll have to make it quick or we'll miss the trip to Hogsmeade," Hermione said, furrowing her brow.

When the trio arrived at Sirius's quarters, Harry was surprised when James answered the door.

"Dad? What are you doing here?" Harry asked, entering to find Remus there as well.

James smiled at him, "Well, I got to thinking that you deserved an outing. Do you know what's happening today?"

"The trip to Hogsmeade?" Harry guessed. Was his dad going to accompany him to Hogsmeade?

"What else?" James asked.

"The Halloween feast?" Harry guessed again.

"Think larger scale," James hinted.

"I don't know," Harry admitted after a moment's thought. He had never particularly liked guessing games.

"Think quidditch," James hinted further.

"Oh, would you just tell him already?" Sirius said, exasperated.

James handed Harry an envelope. Inside were six tickets for the top box at the England-Taiwan quidditch game that would be occurring later that very morning.

"You didn't?" Harry said, his eyes growing wide as they took in the vision of the tickets.

"I did," James told him. "Ron, Hermione, I must apologize for not asking you if you'd rather do this than go to Hogsmeade, but I couldn't risk one of you accidentally ruining the surprise for Harry. If you don't want to go, you can still go to Hogsmeade instead. I'm sure McGonagall would be glad to have a ticket. She was nearly green with envy when I cleared it with her."

"Are you joking?" Ron exclaimed, "Hogsmeade will be there. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! This is the opening match of the World Cup finals!"

Hermione excitedly agreed with him.

"Thank you, Dad!" Harry yelled, forgetting how grown up he was for a moment and throwing his arms around his father.

"I thought you might like it," James said, returning Harry's embrace.

"When did you do this?" Harry asked

"Over the summer. I hated to think of you sitting in the castle all alone during the first Hogsmeade trip, so I pulled some strings. I'm friends with England's seeker. He played for Gryffindor when I was the captain my sixth and seventh years. He's agreed to meet with us after the game."

"This is brilliant, Dad! This is absolutely brilliant!" Harry enthused.

"It was one of my better ideas, if I do say so myself. Now, come on, we've got to get going."

"How are we getting there?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, are we going to apparate?" Ron asked excitedly.

"We can't apparate. Remember?" Hermione said.

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"Honestly, Ron, aren't you ever going to read _Hogwarts: A History_?"

"I believe what Hermione is trying to say is that the castle and its grounds are enchanted so that no one can apparate in or out." Sirius said gently. "But even if we could, it would not be the best way to get there in this case. And, since there's no floo connection at the stadium, we will be traveling by portkey." He pulled an empty ink well out of his pocket and touched his wand to it. It glowed for a moment before going back to normal.

Harry groaned. He hated traveling by portkey. It always made him queasy. But he obediently placed a finger on the empty ink well and closed his eyes as he felt a hook behind his navel. In a few moments it was over and Harry dropped the ink bottle and bent down, his hands on his knees, to wait for the world to stop spinning. When it had, he stood up and looked around. It was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. They were in the middle of a field with the England Quidditch Stadium towering over them. All around them, vendors were selling souvenirs.

James insisted on treating everyone to souvenirs, even Ron and Hermione, although the former was loathe to accept. "I wouldn't be a very good host if I invited you out and then made you spend all your own money, would I?" James asked. "I insist that you let me buy you a souvenir. I'll be offended if you don't."

"Well, I wouldn't want to offend you," Ron said with a reluctance that they all knew was feigned, but they were far too polite to let on. James bought Ron and Hermione both a set of omnioculars. Harry already had some, which James had only just remembered to bring when he set out that morning. He also bought them all hats to show their support for England. Remus insisted on buying them sweets and brushed James and Sirius away when they tried to pay him back. "Let me treat this time. I can finally afford to," he said to them softly. They both tactfully retreated, glad that their friend finally had a job he was proud of after his many years of unemployment.

The game itself was a bloodbath. England took an early lead and only widened it as time went on. By the time England's seeker caught the snitch, England was already ahead of Taiwan 740-50. "Wait until I tell Fred and George about this," Ron was saying excitedly as they exited the stadium after their enthusiastic meeting with England's seeker during which Ron made the poor man sign everything in his possession and Harry made him promise to come to the upcoming Gryffindor match against Hufflepuff.

"Can I watch?" Harry asked. "I can't wait to see their reaction."

"Let's get some food and we'll head back," James told them.

Sirius pulled the ink well out of his pocket and put his wand to it again. This time, the portkey took them to Hogsmeade where they went to the Three Broomsticks and had a meal before walking back up to the castle.

"Thank you so much, Dad. I couldn't have imagined a better day," Harry said that evening as he sat tiredly in Sirius's quarters. Sirius and Remus had gone outside under the pretense of watching a meteor shower that Sirius didn't want to miss.

"Well, I thought you could use a distraction. Although, I should warn you that I don't have anything planned for the next Hogsmeade trip. Sirius and Remus are both scheduled to chaperone that one, so you'll have to entertain yourself that day, I'm afraid."

"That's all right," Harry said, smiling. "This was more than enough."

"I'm glad you had fun," James said, dropping on the sofa next to Harry and throwing an arm around him. "You've been too stressed out lately. I've been worried about you. Sirius says you haven't even played any pranks on him yet this year."

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine," Harry told him. "And just because I haven't played any pranks yet hardly means I won't. I'm just trying to build up his sense of anticipation."

"Wily," James said approvingly. "All right, I can tell by looking at you that you're exhausted and it's almost time for your curfew. Let's get you back to your dormitory."

"Which dormitory did you sleep in?" Harry asked him, rising to his feet.

"The one on the second floor," James told him. "I had the bed that was diagonal from the door, and Sirius had the one on my right. Remus was on my left, and the Peter next to him. A boy called Dirk Cresswell had the one next to Sirius. He works for the ministry now as a Goblin liaison. And a boy called Michael Wheeler had the other bed. He married an American and moved to California a few years back and bought a vineyard. Now he's a diplomat of some sort, represents our ministry to the Americans. I've lost track of him, but he was a nice fellow. Natural politician. Very good at sucking up to teachers. We were all surprised when he didn't get named a prefect."

"I suppose Remus was such a natural at it that he was too good to pass up." Harry said slyly.

"Perhaps," James said with a twinkle in his eye, "but I think it's far more likely that Dumbledore thought he could rein Sirius and me in a bit. He couldn't, of course. Not even Merlin himself could have done that."

When they reached the dormitory, Harry thanked his father once more for a beautiful day and, after checking to make sure no one was around, gave his dad a hug. "I'll see you in a few weeks at the quidditch match."

"It should be a good match. We're supposed to be playing Slytherin, of course, but Malfoy's still pretending to be an invalid. Hufflepuff's got a new seeker, Cedric Diggory."

"Oh, yes. I know his parents."

"He's really good," Harry said, then gave a mischievous smile. "Not as good as me, though."

"Now don't go getting overconfident," James warned lightly. "In my sixth year, Gryffindor lost a match against Ravenclaw once because their team was so bad that we didn't bother to practice. It was my very first game as captain, and McGonagall was so mad at me she threatened to kick me off the team and name a new captain."

"She certainly takes her quidditch very seriously, doesn't she."

"Of course she does. That's why I always liked her," James said approvingly. "You go to bed. I'll see you soon. I love you."

"Love you too, Dad." Harry said, and then he turned and disappeared through the portrait hole. After wishing the fat lady a lovely evening, James returned to Sirius's quarters to rescue his friends from the Astronomy Tower. James smiled, thinking of Harry and his friends and how excited they had been all day. Those were the moments he lived for as a father, and lately there had been far too few of them.


	12. Fear of Falling

The Gryffindor quidditch team huddled in a clump inside the common room looking apprehensively out the window. It was the day before the first quidditch match of the season, and the storms had begun to rage, whipping the trees into a frenzy, covering the world in darkness, and dumping so much rain onto Hogwarts that the students who were unlucky enough to have Herbology arrived at the greenhouses looking as though they had swum there.

"It's supposed to be like this for a week," Oliver Wood told them.

"Maybe it'll clear," Alicia Spinnet said.

"I'll be holding my breath," George Weasley muttered.

"If it doesn't clear, will they cancel the match?" Harry asked hopefully. He loved quidditch, but there were limits.

"They never cancel matches," Katie Bell said forlornly.

"Of course they don't. Quidditch doesn't stop for a little rain!" Oliver Wood said enthusiastically. The rest of the team turned their heads as one to glare at him and then turned back to the rain lashing angrily against the window.

"You call this a little rain?" Fred asked.

"Well, maybe it's more than a little," Oliver admitted, "but it's still nothing to worry about."

"Please tell me you're canceling practice tonight," Angelina Johnson said.

"Of course not. You can bet Hufflepuff's not resting." Oliver said.

"But we could beat Hufflepuff in our sleep, even without Harry catching the snitch--" Fred said.

"Which he will," George interrupted to say.

"We can't afford to let our guard down, gents," Oliver said sternly.

"And ladies," Angelina interrupted huffily.

"And ladies," Oliver added. "Hufflepuff may not be the hardest of opponents, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't give it our all. I'll see you on the quidditch pitch as scheduled!" Then Oliver turned on his heel and marched off before anyone could utter another protest. The others continued to stare out the window.

"Was he always this mental?" Harry asked.

"Only about quidditch," Angelina said.

"Do you think he'd accept my resignation?" Alicia asked.

"Not on your life," Kate answered.

"Maybe we could lock him in a closet," Fred said. "Shouldn't be too hard if we catch him by surprise."

"Come on, let's get to breakfast. If I'm going to be struck by lightning, I'd at least like to be well-fed beforehand." Harry sighed. Together, the team walked down to the Great Hall.

The rain seemed to affect everyone's mood in the castle. Harry suffered through History of Magic, where Professor Binns was especially boring; and Double Potions, where Snape was particularly nasty; he was cheered only by the thought of his Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson and his regular chat with Remus over cocoa that afternoon. He did not pay enough attention to notice that Remus wasn't at the staff table at lunchtime. However, if he had, he likely wouldn't have thought much of it. When he arrived with Ron and Hermione in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, most of the class was already there, sitting quietly. In Remus's normal spot beside the board stood Professor Snape, looking as malevolent as ever.

"What are you doing here?" Harry blurted out.

Snape gave him a scowl. "Your Defense teacher is ill, and I have been given the unhappy responsibility of sitting in."

Harry stood there, staring at the Potions professor, his mouth hanging open. Two classes with Snape in one day seemed unbearable.

"Shut your mouth. You'll catch flies. And sit down before I dock you points for tardiness."

Harry did as he was told, biting back the retort already forming on his tongue.

"Can someone please tell me where you are in the book?" Snape asked.

Hermione's hand shot into the air.

"Can someone who is not an insufferable know-it-all please tell me where you are in the book?"

Hermione dropped her hand, looking stung.

"Potter, you seemed so eager to have your mouth open a moment ago. Where are we?"

"We've skipped around a lot, sir. We've covered boggarts, grindlylows, red caps, and hinkypunks. Today, we were supposed to begin on kneazles."

"I find that highly disappointing, and I will be speaking to Professor Lupin when he gets well about the gaping holes in your education. Turn to page five hundred seventy-four."

The class did so. It was the beginning of the lesson on werewolves. "But sir," Hermione said, raising her hand, "we're not supposed to start on werewolves until next term. The syllabus clearly says--"

"Ten points from Gryffindor for being the most annoying person it has ever been my displeasure to know." Snape snapped. Hermione dropped her hand and stared at the table, tears forming in her eyes.

Snape launched into his lecture about werewolves . Harry caught Hermione's eye and then threw an ink pellet at him the second his back was turned just to make her smile. The ink pellet sailed toward his head just as he was turning back toward the class and hit him right between the eyes. Snape immediately accused Harry, which Harry had expected, and the entire class of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws immediately began to insist that it couldn't have been Harry because the pellet had come from the opposite side of the room, so he had no choice but to let Harry off. Having no one to punish put Snape in a foul temper, so he assigned a five-foot essay on werewolves, to be turned in within a week

After the class was over, Harry returned to the dormitory with Ron and Hermione to roundly abuse Snape.

"He's only mean to you because he wishes he was as smart as you," Harry told her, smiling at her.

Eventually, he and Ron got her laughing, which lightened her mood considerably. By then, it was nearly time for his quidditch practice, so Harry walked resolutely to the pitch. After an hour of flying sideways and fighting the wind and rain, Oliver finally saw reason and released the team, who trudged back to the castle, soaked and shivering. After dinner was over, Harry went to the hospital wing to visit Remus, but Remus wasn't there. Then he went to the Astronomy Tower to find Sirius, but Sirius was also gone. Feeling bewildered, he went to the library and joined Hermione, who was hard at work on the werewolf essay.

That night, Harry stared out the window trying to will the rain to stop before tomorrow's match. He didn't particularly fancy playing in weather like that. He had barely been able to see his hands in front of his face at the team's practice that evening. He had no idea how he was going to search for the snitch in such a squall. As he stared sullenly out the window, something at the edges of the Forest caught his eye. There, by the light of Hagrid's hut, he could just make out a shaggy black dog.

Just as the realization of what it was hit him, he could have sworn the dog looked at him. He immediately began telling himself it wasn't possible, but he couldn't escape the small voice in the back of his mind that remembered Trelawney's recent warning about quidditch and Ron's assurance that seeing a Grim was a sure sign of impending disaster. As he stared at it, the Grim slunk to the edge of the forest and turned its face toward Harry's window one last time before disappearing into the shadows.

Harry slept fitfully that night, his dreams full of falling and growling black dogs and always, in the background, the sound of his mother screaming.

The intensity of the storm only increased in the night, and Harry awoke with a sense of dread. He sat nervously at breakfast with the rest of the team and picked at his breakfast. He looked up at the staff table and saw Sirius there, looking tired. Remus was not there at all.

"Where were you last night?" Harry asked Sirius as Sirius was exiting the Great Hall. "I tried to visit you."

"I'm sorry, Pronglet. I was out. Are you all right? You look awfully tired."

"It's nothing," Harry said. "Just pre-match jitters." He was mostly sure as he said it that it was true, but he could not quite shake the thought that what he had seen the night before had been a Grim. "Is Remus feeling better?"

"A bit. He's still not quite to normal yet, but he should be able to go back to teaching on Monday. I'll tell him you asked after him."

"Can I go visit him after the quidditch match?"

"Sure, he'd probably love to see you."

"Why isn't he in the hospital wing?" Harry asked.

"He is," Sirius assured him.

"No, he isn't. I went there looking for him last night and he wasn't there."

"Oh, well he wanted to spend the night in his own bed last night, so Madame Pomfrey let him. She wasn't happy about it, but Remus can be pretty persuasive when he puts his mind to it, you know."

"Yes," Harry said knowingly. Then he said goodbye to Sirius and turned back to Ron and Hermione. Hermione was staring after Sirius intently with a look on her face that she only got when she was putting the pieces of a puzzle together.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Harry asked.

"Oh, it's nothing," Hermione said quickly. "I was just wondering if they were going to cancel the quidditch match. It's mental to play in all this rain."

"Quidditch doesn't stop just for a little rain!" Ron protested.

"Oliver Wood said the same thing," Harry grumbled. "No, they won't cancel the match."

Harry walked toward the quidditch pitch with the rest of his team when the time came. He always felt so tiny standing next to them, although he did notice that Katie Bell wasn't as tall as she used to be in comparison to him. By the time they arrived at their locker room, they were all soaked to the skin. They changed into their quidditch robes quickly and huddled together for warmth, dreading the upcoming match so much that they hardly even heard Oliver's fiery speech.

When the whistle sounded, they made their way onto the pitch. Harry kicked off from the ground and rose high into the air to find the snitch. The rain hit his glasses, smearing so that he could barely see the ground, much less the snitch. Lee Jordan's commentary was lost on the wind, so Harry could not tell how the match was going. He didn't even know time-out had been called until George Weasley came to fetch him.

"I can't see anything up there," Harry said in frustration when he landed. He was trying not to think about England's seeker in the stands, watching him play so badly. "I don't even know what's going on."

"We're ahead, but only just," said Alicia. "This is madness."

Hermione came running up just then. "Let me see your glasses, Harry," she said quickly. She tapped her wand to them and said, "Impervio!" before handing him back. "That'll make them repel the rain," she explained.

"Thanks, Hermione!" He said gratefully as he put them on, noting gladly how much better he could see.

"It was your dad's idea. He said he's an idiot for not having already done it for you."

"Tell him thank you for me," Harry told his friend.

Hermione nodded and went back up to the stands. Harry resolutely kicked off again, thankful to be able to finally see.

The match moved slowly, but Harry could now follow some of the action. Gryffindor was clearly winning, but not so much so that they could afford to lose the snitch. Harry searched diligently for it, trying to avoid the icy shivers that were running up his spine. Then, suddenly, he saw the tiny flash of gold at the far end of the pitch. Cedric was closer; if he saw it first, they would lose, so Harry casually flew toward it, trying not to alert Cedric to its whereabouts. When he got close enough that he was sure he could catch it, he began his dive. The crowd began cheering for him excitedly.

Harry had nearly caught the snitch when the cold suddenly increased ten-fold. He looked down at the ground and saw that a group of dementors had made their way onto the pitch. He was already in their icy grip. He reached for the snitch, trying with all his might to catch it and end the match. He was inches away when the world went black around him and his mind filled with the sound of his mother's crying scream and a cold, high-pitched laughter.

Engrossed as he was in the final moments of his mother's life, Harry could not hear the tortured, strangled cry that tore out of his father's throat as he hit the ground with a sickening crunch.

Unconsciousness was a sweet release.


	13. Tempers and Tactics

James had always wished he could be more like his father. Harry David Potter had been a wonderful father - calm, caring, thoughtful, loving, and endlessly patient. James remembered accompanying his parents to the seaside once when he was five or six and following his father down to the water. As he walked, he stretched his legs to place his tiny feet in the much larger footprints left by his father, walking exactly where his father had walked. At the man's funeral, James stood and told that story as part of his eulogy, noting that his goal in life had always been to follow in his father's footsteps, the footsteps of a man who had been good and kind, and who loved his family above all else.

James wasn't always sure he was good, and he was certain he wasn't kind, although the vast majority of the people who knew him would have said otherwise. But in one thing, he had succeeded in his goal: his son Harry, named for the man he had admired so much, was without a doubt the most important thing in his life.

Above all, James wished he could have inherited his father's temperament. The man was like a ship on the ocean, easily riding the waves of his life up and down without ever losing his bearings. James had actually inherited his father's temperament in more ways than he knew. The elder Harry Potter had been raised by parents who, while loving, had very specific ideas about the behavior of children and never allowed their three sons to show anger. He had learned early to control his temper, biting back the sharp words that rose in his throat. When he found himself unexpectedly stepping into the role of a father, he taught James to express his anger, but to do it carefully. "It's acceptable for you to be angry, and it's acceptable to communicate that anger," he told his son more times than he could count, "but it is never acceptable for you to be disrespectful just because you're angry or to use your anger as an excuse for bad behavior."

James's mother didn't have much of a temper, either. She had a long fuse that exploded magnificently when lit, but James only saw the tiniest of glimpses into that aspect of her personality. She was the one who taught him to leave the room when he felt himself losing control. "I hate myself when I've lost my temper," she told him. "I turn into a person who's not me, and I say and do things I regret. I learned awhile ago that if I can get away from the situation for a few minutes, I'll calm down and then I can discuss it rationally. I actually told your father not long after we got married that if we were ever arguing and I started saying I couldn't talk about it anymore or that I have to leave, that he better let me go, and heaven help him if he didn't. He always does, though. That's part of why our rows never get nasty."

James followed his mother's advice carefully, always seeking to keep his temper from getting the better of him. However, as he stood outside the hospital wing confronting Albus Dumbledore, any thought of controlling his temper was far away. His desire to keep Harry safe had overwhelmed any other desire he ever felt and now, as the boy lay unconscious in a bed just beyond the door, it was love for his son that fueled the fire behind his eyes.

"I demand to know how this could have been allowed to happen!" James said angrily as soon as Harry was settled in the bed and Madame Pomfrey had assured the assembled crowd he would make a full recovery.

"Shall we step outside?" Dumbledore said nervously. It was not the first time he had fallen afoul of James's temper. Indeed, he had been expecting it as soon as he saw Harry start to fall. In truth, while it was never fun to endure the shouting, he felt strangely warmed to know how much James cared for Harry. He felt oddly parental toward the both of them, and he knew that James respected him greatly, so he felt his chest fill with a sort fatherly pride whenever James stood up to him on Harry's behalf. Harry needed someone to fight for him; Dumbledore knew that better than anyone else.

James assented to step into the corridor just as the Gryffindor quidditch team was arriving. The two men stepped into the hall and shut the door to the hospital wing behind him. Then James repeated his demand for answers.

"I don't know," Dumbledore said. "The ministry assured me they would stay outside the grounds. If I had to guess, I'd say the excitement of the quidditch match was too much for them and they couldn't resist coming to feed."

"You are allowing the most foul creatures on the face of the earth to feed on students! This is outrageous! I want them removed this instant."

"I can't do that, James. I don't want them here any more than you do, but I'm afraid Fudge has overridden me on this matter."

"Then go to the school governors! I don't care what you have to do to make it happen, but I want them gone. They have no business being here. They're a threat to every student in this castle. They just almost killed my son!" James shouted.

"I'm sorry, James. I understand your concern, and I agree with you, but my hands are tied."

"Your hands are never tied!" James bellowed. "What good is being the most powerful wizard in the world if you won't even use your power to protect innocent children?"

Dumbledore raised himself up to his full height. Righteous indignation after a scare like James had had was one thing; accusations about the safety of the Hogwarts students was something completely different. "I am doing everything I can to ensure the safety of these students," Dumbledore said, his own voice rising. "How dare you suggest otherwise!"

"Because if you were doing everything you could, the dementors would be gone and my son would be in his common room right now celebrating with his friends instead of lying unconscious in the hospital wing!" James shouted, fighting against the familiar prickle behind his eyes that told him tears were on their way.

"Would you rather I do nothing and give Peter Pettigrew free reign to come into the castle whenever he pleases?"

James, who was already opening his mouth to hurl his next accusation, stopped short. He heard the hardness in his own voice as the next words came tumbling out of his mouth. "As soon as Harry's awake, I'm taking him home."

"James, please," Dumbledore said softly. "I will be speaking to the ministry about making sure the dementors are under control, and if there is any other such a breach I will personally shoot spells at Cornelius Fudge's head until he calls them off. This was a fluke. It doesn't mean Harry isn't safe. If anything, the dementors are adding to his safety, much as I hate to admit it."

"He'll be safer with me," James said loudly. "There's still an auror guard on my house. I might even be able to get them to increase it."

"And what about Peter's animagus form? Will they be able to stop something they can't even see?" Dumbledore asked pointedly. "Pettigrew could have taken up residence in your attic and you'd never be any the wiser, unless he wanted you to be. At least here, I've got the map you gave me so that I can be certain he's not nearby."

"I can make a map for my house as well," James said quickly.

"But here, Harry can be with his peers. Here, he can learn magic from some of the best witches and wizards in the world. He ought to be here. He needs to be here. I promise you I will protect him."

"You can't even protect him from your own staff!" James shouted, as he lost the battle with his emotions and tears filled his eyes. "I haven't forgotten that it was a teacher inside these very walls who attacked him his first year, and I notice you still haven't done anything to keep Snivellus from torturing him."

"Every member of my staff is dedicated to protecting these students," Dumbledore said firmly. "Including Professor Snape. Or do I need to remind you that he once saved your son's life?"

James glared at the headmaster, wiping angrily at the tears that were falling down his face.

"James, I'm terribly sorry this happened," Dumbledore said, looking sadly at James. "But the answer is not taking Harry out of school. This is the place where he will learn the skills he needs to protect himself from the things that hunt him. Taking him away from here will only hurt him in the long run."

James hated that Dumbledore was right. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his eyes a moment, taking advantage of the lull in the conversation to regain his control.

"I want him off the quidditch team," James finally said.

Dumbledore nodded once. "I'll speak with Professor McGonagall."

"You do that," James said harshly, as he turned to return to his son's bedside.

"Harry's off the team," James announced to the waiting Gryffindors as he entered.

"What!" Oliver Wood said, leaping to his feet. "We need him! You can't do that!"

The world seemed almost to come to a standstill as James turned a murderous glare on the burly seventh year and spoke in a dangerous undertone. "Do not tell me what I can and can't do."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Oliver said quickly, paling and dropping down onto the bed next to Harry's where he had been sitting only a moment before.

James sat by Harry's side and took Harry's hand, staring into his face and willing him to wake. Remus sat next to him. Remus had already been in the hospital wing recovering from his transformation when they brought Harry in. Sirius, Ron, and Hermione had been standing next to James in the stands and saw the whole thing unfolding as it happened. They had followed James up to the hospital wing, looking every bit as worried as James felt.

As James sat there, Madame Pomfrey came by to order everyone to eat some chocolate and scold the quidditch team for the mud they had tracked in with them.

"You can all just take your muddy clothes out of here right this instant!" She told them.

James, still fuming and thinking only of how touched Harry would be to have so many visitors, rose up in outraged majesty. "They have every right to be here!" He said loudly. "Harry will want to see them, and you of all people should know that after a run-in with dementors, he'll need every reason to be happy he can find."

"Yeah!" Fred said behind him, standing and crossing his arms over his chest.

"You shut up!" James snapped, turning on Fred.

Fred quailed beneath James's furious gaze and took his seat. "Sorry, Mr. Potter," he said softly.

Madame Pomfrey reluctantly agreed to let the team stay, but she did make them all stand while she taught them a spell to dry their robes with a stream of hot air from the tips of their wands. "I can't stand the thought of you sitting there in wet robes," she clucked, and then returned to her office with a warning that she was to be informed the second Harry woke.

James resumed his vigil, squeezing Harry's hand and trying not to think about how pale and small his son looked lying in the bed. James was still fighting against the emotion that bubbled just beneath the surface; he was not entirely sure all his tears were spent, but he was quite sure he didn't want to cry in front of Harry's friends. Around him, the gathered throng was chatting; but James was deathly quiet as he waited for the boy who had James wrapped around his little finger, the boy around whom James's entire world revolved, his son, to awake.


	14. The Worries of a Werewolf

Remus Lupin was more nervous than most when he left for Hogwarts. He had always assumed he wouldn't be allowed to go at all, being what he was. He had been so young when it happened that he couldn't remember the bite that had stricken him with lycanthropy, but he well remembered the aftermath. He remembered his mother's wails outside his room in St. Mungo's when they told her he'd been infected. He remembered his father's face over his bed as he tried to smile through his tears and convince his son that everything would be all right. He remembered the regretful, and slightly frightened, looks the healers gave him. He also remembered his first transformation: the pain, the fear, the confusion, the frenzy.

He was too young, then, to understand what was happening to him or to appreciate what it meant for the rest of his life. His parents assured him over and over again that everything would work itself out, but as he got older and gradually gained an understanding of what his "illness" meant, he found it more and more difficult to believe. He surrendered to the helplessness he felt as he watched his parents sink more and more of their gold into finding a cure for him, but no cure could ever be found. Eventually, the gold ran out, yet the fear of the moon remained. By the time he was eleven, Remus had come to accept that he could never be like other wizards.

When he got his acceptance letter to Hogwarts, his parents immediately sent an owl to Albus Dumbledore informing him that their son could not attend. Two days later, Dumbledore came to their house and promised them he would take precautions to both protect Remus's secret and keep the other students safe. His parents reluctantly agreed to send him for one term. After that, they said, they would see.

Remus could hardly believe his luck as he sat on the Hogwarts Express chugging toward his new adventure. He felt as though he had just stepped into someone else's life. Things at Hogwarts were going to be different, he told himself. No one knew, so no one would be afraid of him. He could be normal. He could be just like everyone else. He could even have friends. That was the one thing he wanted more than anything else: friends.

Like most of the other students in their year, Remus was immediately in awe of James Potter and Sirius Black. But Remus's history had turned him painfully shy, and, despite his longing to be normal, he was wary of getting too close to anyone, for fear they would discover his secret and he would be expelled. Instead, he quickly became friends with Peter Pettigrew. It began as a friendship of convenience but grew into genuine fondness. Sirius and James had formed an airtight bond their very first night in the Gryffindor common room. Likewise, the other two boys in Remus's year, Dirk Cresswell and Michael Wheeler, had become friends. They were both muggle-borns, and that gave them a link as they stumbled through their first several weeks in the magical world together.

Peter and Remus were the two outsiders and, as such, they attracted one another. Peter was not overly talented, nor was he particularly smart, but he was a good friend. He paid attention to Remus and sat with him in class and often made him laugh. Remus liked him and genuinely enjoyed the time they spent together studying or playing exploding snap.

As the first full moon of his Hogwarts time approached, Peter noticed something was wrong. Remus stuck with the story his parents and Dumbledore had concocted over the summer and told Peter he wasn't feeling well. The day after his first change he stayed in the hospital wing, exhausted from the transformation. The students were told only that he was sick. No one, save his parents and members of the staff, came to check on him. He kept waiting for Peter, his only friend, to come, but Peter, his only friend, never did.

The second day, Remus was amazed when James and Sirius showed up to visit him. He was so overwhelmed by their kindness that for a moment he lost his shyness and enjoyed an hour talking and laughing with them until they had to go to class. He never did find out that they had come only because McGonagall caught them skiving off potions to sneak outside and tease the Giant Squid. Sirius had quickly told her they were going to visit Remus and she was so touched by their thoughtfulness that she let them off with only a mild scolding about missing classes and then walked them to the hospital wing so that they wouldn't be stopped again. "We've got her wrapped around our fingers, mate," Sirius whispered to James as they entered.

Remus's place in the marauders' inner circle was cemented the next week when, while sitting in front of them in Potions, he overheard James and Sirius discussing a way to get even with Severus Snape for having gotten them in trouble. "Why don't you throw a dungbomb in his cauldron and explode his potion?" Remus suggested. Even then, Snape was serious about his potions.

James and Sirius both stared at him as though seeing him for the first time. "That's not a bad idea. And, of course, the only day I haven't got a dungbomb." James said.

"I've got one," Remus told them, and produced one from his pocket. His uncle had sent him a few that very morning.

"I like a boy who's well prepared," Sirius said, taking the dungbomb from Remus's hand and handing it to James. "James, would you care to do the honors?"

"Let's let Remus do it. It's his dungbomb, after all. And it was his idea."

James handed the dungbomb back to Remus and Remus, using his potions book, his stirring spoon, and an expertise gained from years of having to entertain himself inside, flicked the dungbomb into Snape's hair-regrowing potion, which immediately exploded with hilarious results. As Professor Slughorn ran around the room trying to free all the students who had been hit from their sudden excess of hair in odd places and berating Snape, whose eyebrows had grown so thick he could no longer see through them, Remus, Sirius, James, and Peter sat in their back corner laughing uproariously.

James and Sirius merely tolerated Peter at first as someone they had to put up with in exchange for having Remus. Gradually, tolerance grew into a certain fondness and he became a marauder as well. When Remus went home for Christmas, he was full of stories about James, Sirius, and Peter and all the fun they were having together. His parents, thankful to see him so happy, readily agreed to let him return to Hogwarts.

Then, in the spring of his second year, the thing he had been dreading most happened. He was recovering in the hospital wing when James and Sirius came by, looking grave. They had asked him before what was wrong with him, and he had dodged the question. He was expecting them to ask again, but when he saw the way they hung back, his heart fell and he knew that they knew.

"Remus, we have a question for you," James began.

"You figured it out, then?" Remus asked softly, fighting against the tears that were forming in his eyes. His friends would hate him now, and he'd have to go home.

"So, it really is true?" James asked, his own eyes growing wide.

"How did you figure it out?" Remus asked, swiping forlornly at the first tear of what he was sure would soon be a veritable monsoon of them.

"I'm the one who put it all together," Sirius said matter-of-factly, sitting in the bed next to Remus's. "You're always sick at the full moon."

"I didn't believe him," James said, "But it's true? You're really a... a werewolf?"

Remus nodded, a sob escaping his throat.

"Why are you crying?" Sirius asked.

"Because now that you know, I'll be expelled. No one will want to be around me. And I had so much fun being your friend." Remus sobbed miserably, pulling the blankets over his head to hide his face. He very much wished James and Sirius would look away.

James pulled the covers down. "What do you mean _had _fun being our friend? You're still our friend, Remus."

"But... but don't you want a friend who's normal?" Remus asked.

"You are normal," James said quickly. "You've just got a... a problem. A little... furry... problem."

"Furry little problem sounds better," Sirius put in.

"It doesn't matter. I'll still be expelled now that you've found out."

"What makes you think we're going to tell anyone?" Sirius asked.

"You mean, you're not?" Remus asked.

"Of course not," James assured him. "Your secret's safe with us."

"You're not scared?"

"We're Gryffindors, mate. We laugh in the face of danger," James said with a flourish.

Remus was so relieved he laughed through his tears. "What about Peter?" Remus asked.

"He knows," Sirius said sheepishly. "He wasn't so sure about it, but he won't tell anyone. We threatened to hex him if he does, and I think he's a little afraid of me."

"He should be afraid of you. If you keep confunding him, he's going to go mad," James said with a smile.

"I'll stop confunding him when he stops ratting us out. I don't know about the two of you, but I don't exactly enjoy being caned."

"I always reckoned you did," Remus said with a small smile. "After all, you keep going back for more."

"You better be careful or I'm going to start pulling you into trouble with me," Sirius warned. "Speaking of which, we got the Slytherin password last night, and James caught a jarful of spiders this morning in Herbology. As soon as you're better, we can proceed as planned. Snivelly won't know what hit him."

"I don't know," Remus said. "I've started to think maybe we shouldn't. McGonagall will be awfully mad if we get caught."

"Who says we're going to get caught?" James said, "As long as we're careful, she'll never be able to prove it was us. You and Peter can stand guard. Sirius and I will do the deed. That way, even if we do get caught, only the two of us will be in trouble. But we won't get caught."

"Not unless your face gives us away," Sirius said. "Maybe I should start confunding you, too."

"You do and I'll levitate you up by your ankles and show the whole school your underwear. I don't care if you are my best mate." James shot back.

James and Sirius continued their bickering until it had devolved into sheer silliness that had all three of them laughing so loudly that Madame Pomfrey came running in and made James and Sirius leave. Peter came by later that afternoon, alone, to assure Remus that, while the idea of being friends with a werewolf would take some getting used to, he was Remus's friend through and through. When he was gone, Remus lay back against the pillows to rest feeling incredibly blessed to have found such good friends in Sirius, James, and Peter.

In their third year, they began to study human transformation in Transfiguration and dark creatures, including werewolves, in Defense Against the Dark Arts. James was the one who got the idea to put the two together and ask their DADA professor if wizards were susceptible to werewolf bites while in an animagus form.

"No," she informed the class, "Lycanthropy can only be passed from werewolf to human, so animals, even animagi, are not at risk of being infected. However, werewolves are still inclined to attack whatever they can, so being an animagus would not protect a wizard from being attacked and even killed. Only animagi that are very large and could effectively defend themselves against the werewolf would be safe. Actually, that's how many of the wizards on the Werewolf Capture Unit go about catching them."

The marauders began working toward becoming animagi immediately. It was the beginning of their fifth year before they accomplished it. Sirius transformed first, into a large black dog. James mastered the skill second, transforming into a large, elegant stag. Peter was the last to master the magic, becoming a rat. Remus had never been happier. Now, instead of transforming alone in the shrieking shack, he could run around Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest with his friends. They were some of the happiest days Remus had ever had.

When they graduated from Hogwarts, Remus wasn't sure what was going to happen to their friendship. It had always been his secret fear that, when they were no longer bunking together and seeing one another every day, Sirius and James would move on. They both had big, bright futures ahead of them with their popularity and their connections and their talent. Remus and Peter could never hope to keep up. But James and Sirius were nothing if not loyal. Their journey from schoolyard friendship to adulthood companions was seamless and, to Remus, effortless.

When he discovered he was unemployable, his bitterness was made better by James' and Sirius' insistence on supporting him from their large stores of gold. Neither of them had ever been the type to flaunt their wealth, so Remus didn't actually realize how much of it the two of them had until they were adults. Remus wouldn't take the money at first; he moved back in with his parents and found work however he could, but before long James and Sirius began finding ways to give it to him. Sirius would make ridiculously large bets on games of wizard's chess and then lose so spectacularly that Remus knew he had done it purposely, despite his insistence that, no, he was just that bad at wizard's chess. James would discreetly deposit sums of money into his bank account and feign ignorance when Remus confronted him. Peter was not wealthy by any means, but even he would leave galleons under Remus's sofa cushions whenever he came to visit and then vehemently deny it when Remus tried to give them back.

Gradually, Remus accepted that his werewolf status would never let him live a normal life, and he accepted his friends' monetary support, although he practiced extreme frugality for the rest of his life. He reckoned that if he was going to live off someone else's gold, he could at least make it last.

It was only a little over a year after their graduation that James and Lily were married, and Remus was proud to stand with them. The war was at its height, then, and all four marauders had begun to focus their efforts on fighting Lord Voldemort as members of the Order of the Phoenix. Remus was thrilled to be able to help as he served as a liaison to werewolves, recruiting them to the side of light. Many refused, insisting that Voldemort would give them rights the ministry never would, but some were convinced and joined Dumbledore.

The marauders were all only twenty when Harry burst suddenly and unexpectedly into their lives. He was a week old before Remus got to see him, and he remembered feeling so young as he held the tiny infant, who already had a full head of unruly black hair and Lily's startlingly bright green eyes. It wasn't long after that that Remus caught wind from some of the werewolves that Voldemort had marked the Potters for death. They went into hiding immediately when he told them, but everything seemed to be going wrong all at once. No matter where they hid, Voldemort was able to find them. No matter what they did, Voldemort seemed to anticipate it.

Remus put his ear even closer to the werewolf underground. He was so busy trying to find out all he could that he didn't notice when the other three marauders began pulling away from him. When they performed the fidelius charm, Remus volunteered to be the secret keeper, but applauded the decision to use Sirius instead. Remus knew first-hand how close James and Sirius were, and he knew Sirius would die before he would give the Potters up. Remus did not know that Sirius and the Potters suspected that he had turned traitor while liaising with the werewolves, so he did not know that they were lying to him to throw him off their scent.

Remus first heard it through the werewolf rumor mill when Lily died. At first, he heard that the whole family had been wiped out but then, as more and more scraps of information came his way, he learned that James had been absent from the house when Voldemort attacked and that Harry had somehow, miraculously, survived Voldemort's killing curse. No one knew where James and Harry had gone, but Sirius had already been arrested for betraying them and killing Peter Pettigrew.

He learned the truth from Dumbledore. He arrived at Hogwarts hoping for answers and was taken to Dumbledore's office just in time to overhear a very heated discussion between Dumbledore and Barty Crouch, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Thinking that he would very much liked to have been a fly on the wall during that shouting match, he was ushered inside after Crouch left and Dumbledore informed him that Peter was the real traitor and that Sirius had been wrongly imprisoned, but Crouch would not listen to reason. It wasn't until the next day, when James marched into the ministry with Harry in tow to demand he be accepted into the auror training program that Crouch believed what had really happened. Sirius was discreetly freed within the hour and issued a full, if private, apology. Thus the hunt for Pettigrew began.

Like his two best friends, Remus blamed himself for Lily's death. It had been his coattails that Peter had ridden into the marauders, after all. Like the others, Remus never saw his betrayal coming. He had grown so much during their time at Hogwarts, from a bumbling child to a good and loyal friend. He had even shown extreme bravery in his work for the Order, or so they thought. It was the last thing anyone expected, least of all Remus. The guilt ate away at him, and he pulled further away from Sirius and James, convincing himself that he was not worthy to be their friend.

For their part, Sirius and James thought Remus's increasing reclusive behavior was due to his hurt over their suspicion that he was the one behind Voldemort's uncanny ability to know their plans. James and Sirius, who were now living together while James put his life back in order, sent him owl after owl begging him to come and see them. Finally, they went to him and told him they were both stricken with guilt over having suspected him. He told them that he was stricken with guilt over having brought Peter into their fellowship all those years ago, for not seeing him for what he was and running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. James and Sirius immediately forgave him his blunder, reminding him that they had made the same blunder. Remus quickly forgave them their suspicions, admitting that he had believed Sirius guilty when he was first taken to Azkaban.

Their friendship renewed, the three men set about healing together. The loss of Lily was devastating to all of them; she had been one of the best friends Remus ever had. Harry was an endless comfort during those days. Every time one of them looked in his eyes, they felt they had a little piece of Lily back. He was a little bundle of smiles and excitement. Remus couldn't get enough of him. His laugh was like a perfect cure for the bouts of melancholy that gripped all of them. Remus loved him dearly; he couldn't imagine loving anyone more. He would have killed for that boy. He would have died for that boy.

As he grew, Remus was there for every milestone. He missed only those birthdays and Christmases that coincided with the full moon. He showered the boy with love and affection and gave James advice about raising him. He tempered Sirius's wild streak and James's tendency to turn a blind eye to disobedience with his own brand of firm expectations for the boy's behavior.

Remus was aware that Harry had contributed to his winning the Hogwarts DADA position, and he was touched more than he ever could have said that the boy thought so much of his teaching skills to tell Dumbledore so. "Harry says you're 'brilliant', is the word I think he used." Dumbledore told Remus just before hiring him. Remus felt he could have danced when he went home that evening.

Remus was lying in a bed in the Hogwarts hospital wing, saying a silent prayer of thanksgiving that the full moon was now over when Dumbledore and Madame Hooch brought Harry in, followed by a terrified-looking James, an apprehensive Sirius, a crying Hermione, and a deathly pale Ron. He immediately forgot the fatigue that had, a moment before, been causing a familiar dull ache throughout his entire body. They put Harry in the bed next to his. He was deathly pale, and his lips were blue.

For a moment, Remus thought the worst and felt his breath hitch in his throat. He couldn't bear the thought of losing Harry, nor could he bear the thought of watching James lose his son or Sirius his godson. He sat up quickly and demanded to know what had happened. As Madame Pomfrey fretted over the boy, James told him tersely that he had fallen off his broom after dementors came onto the quidditch pitch.

"Dementors?" Remus gasped. He knew firsthand how badly the dementors affected Harry. "How did dementors get onto the quidditch pitch?"

"I think we'd all like to know the answer to that," Sirius said darkly.

Remus's heart was beating quickly as he waited for Madame Pomfrey to finish checking Harry. The relief he saw in his two best friends' faces was mirrored in his own when she announced that no lasting damage had been done. "I'll get him sorted out," she said soothingly to James. "He'll be right as rain again before you know it." That was when the fury overtook James and he confronted Dumbledore, demanding to know how this had been allowed to happen.

The two stepped into the corridor for some privacy, but Remus could still hear the distant rumble of his angry friend's raised voice through the door. He couldn't make out the words, but he could guess easily enough what was being said. James could be ferocious when Harry's safety was in jeopardy. When he came back in, he had tears of rage in his eyes and announced, to the immediate disapproval of the Gryffindor quidditch team, who had arrived en masse just as James and Dumbledore were stepping outside, that Harry would no longer be allowed to play. Remus knew his friend well enough to know he probably didn't mean it, but it showed his distress all the same; James took his quidditch seriously and was inordinately proud that his son had inherited his innate talent on the quidditch pitch.

As he sat there waiting impatiently for Harry to wake up, Remus tried to push down the fear and apprehension he felt. It almost physically hurt him to see Harry going through so much torment at the rotting hands of the dementors. Beside him, James was pale as he held Harry's hand and stared at Harry's face. Across from him, Sirius's normal smile was nowhere to be seen in his drawn face. The Gryffindors who huddled around looked like they were scared out of their wits. They probably are, Remus reminded himself. After all, he was. "_If only Harry was old enough to learn to conjure a patronus,_" Remus thought to himself, "_or maybe even become an animagus; the dementors don't affect animagi so badly_."

Then it hit him like a bolt of lightening. If a bunch of fifth years could illegally learn to become animagi, surely a third year could learn to conjure a patronus. Remus was sure Harry could learn the magic. He had inherited his parents' brains and talent, after all. He was trying to think of how to simulate a dementor when a cupboard nearby rattled ominously. "Do you reckon there's a boggart in there?" Remus asked.

"I'll go see," Sirius said, rising. He opened the cupboard and a troll came out. "Yep, boggart," Sirius told his friends. "Riddikulus!" And the boggart disappeared with a loud crack. The idea came suddenly to Remus's mind. Harry was afraid of dementors. A boggart becomes what a person is most afraid of. In Harry's presence, a boggart would become a dementor. Remus almost wished he had a time-turner so he could stop Sirius from banishing the boggart, but he was sure there would be another one soon enough. A place did not get as old as Hogwarts Castle without a few unwanted residents. Remus decided he would put the word out that he was in need of a boggart and begin teaching Harry to conjure a patronus as soon as one could be found.

His decision made, he returned his attention to the bedside vigil alongside his friends, and he sighed with relief when the boy he loved so much finally opened his emerald eyes and said, sheepishly, "Hello, everyone."


	15. A Battered Broomstick

The first thing Harry saw on waking was his father's concerned face. "Oh, thank goodness," James said with a sigh. "Are you all right? Are you in pain?" Madame Pomfrey had made him drink a pain potion, as well as several other healing potions, while he was asleep, but James wanted to be sure he wasn't uncomfortable.

"I'm cold," Harry said softly as Hermione went to fetch Madame Pomfrey.

"Eat this," Sirius said quickly, handing Harry a chocolate frog. "It's just the aftereffects from the dementors."

Harry bit into the frog quickly, relishing the warmth that seeped into his fingers and toes. Madame Pomfrey arrived quickly and checked him over, declaring him to be improving.

"I want you to stay here tonight. You had quite a spill, but your injuries are healing nicely," Madame Pomfrey told him. "The rest of you can stay for a few more minutes, but then you have to go. He needs to rest."

"Did we win the match?" Harry asked his team members when Madame Pomfrey had left.

Wood shook his head. "Diggory caught the snitch a few seconds after you fell. He didn't know you'd fallen off your broom. When he realized, he tried to ask for a rematch, but there won't be one. He won it fair and square."

Harry closed his eyes and dropped his head onto the pillow. It was the first time he had ever lost a match.

"It wasn't your fault, Harry," James said quickly, squeezing Harry's hand.

"Yes, it was," Harry said softly. "If I could have just resisted the dementors for ten more seconds, we would have won."

"Harry, no one can resist dementors that long," Remus told him. "You did really well to stay on your broom as long as you did."

"What are our odds for winning the quidditch cup?" Harry asked his teammates.

"They're still good," Angelina told him. "We lost by one hundred fifty points, so if Hufflepuff loses to either Ravenclaw or Slytherin by that much, and we beat them, we could still win. It's just a matter of a one hundred fifty points either way. Slytherin's team isn't wonderful this year. Malfoy's always been too much of a prat to be any good at seeking. Ravenclaw's new seeker is pretty good."

Harry nodded, not sure if the warmth in his chest was from the chocolate frog or the mention of the Ravenclaw seeker. He has seen her. Her name was Cho Chang, and Harry had never noticed until recently just how pretty she was. Harry changed the subject quickly to keep himself from blushing.

"Did anyone get my broomstick, or is it still outside?" Harry asked.

The quidditch team was silent.

"We're sorry, mate," Fred said as he and George stood and presented a piece of splintered wood.

"After you fell off, your broom flew away in the wind--" George said.

"Straight into the whomping willow," Fred continued.

"This was the biggest piece of it we could find." George finished.

"Such a waste," Ron said, shaking his head. "A Nimbus 2001."

Harry reached out and took the piece of his broomstick. Harry really loved that broomstick; it had been a make-up gift from his father after a particularly emotional row the year before.

"Don't worry about it now, Harry," James told his son. "We'll get you a new broomstick." James decided not to mention just yet that Harry was being kicked off the team. He didn't need that kind of emotional upheaval just now, and James didn't know if he could stand a row after such a harrowing afternoon. Besides, he was already starting to think that maybe he had acted too hastily. Dumbledore had promised to keep the dementors away, after all, and James knew without a doubt that he could trust Dumbledore.

"We should get going," Katie said to the rest of the team. "Madame Pomfrey is giving us the evil eye."

"We're glad you're all right," Alicia said, and the team tramped out. As soon as they were gone, they were replaced with England's seeker. Harry groaned when he saw him; in all the excitement following his fall, he'd forgotten that the seeker had been in the stands to see Harry make a fool of himself.

"Hello, I'm not interrupting, am I?" the seeker asked.

"No, of course not. Harry's just resting. Madame Pomfrey says he'll make a full recovery.

"Then you can be sure it's true. She really knows her stuff. She used to take care of me after I had a few nasty spills. You played a good game, Harry."

"I didn't catch the snitch," Harry whinged.

"Not for lack of trying. You were only inches away when you fell, and you can't be blamed for that. I think I'd fall, too, if dementors were coming after me."

"I've never not caught the snitch before," Harry said glumly. "We lost because of me."

"You shouldn't feel too badly about it. No one can be on all the time. You're one of the best flyers I've ever seen," the seeker said.

"Really?" Harry asked, perking up.

"Hands down. You could probably give Viktor Krum a run for his money."

Harry blushed slightly at the compliment. "Thank you," he said, smiling.

"Well, I don't want to keep you from your rest. I just wanted to check and make sure you're all right. Maybe I can arrange for you and your friends to come watch another of our games sometime."

Harry smiled broadly. "I'd love that!" He enthused.

"I'll get right on it, then. See you later."

"Later," Harry said.

"Goodbye, Nigel, and thank you for coming by," James said, standing to shake the seeker's hand.

"No problem. It was nice to see a Hogwarts match again." Then the seeker turned and was gone. Ron looked very much as though he was fighting the urge to run after him.

"You should get some rest," James said gently.

Harry nodded. "I'm sorry I scared you," he said softly.

"Oh, Harry, it wasn't your fault. Anyone would have fallen under those circumstances."

"Cedric Diggory didn't," Harry pointed out.

"Cedric Diggory doesn't have your history," Sirius said gently.

"And he's a stuffed up prat," Ron said. Harry let out a small laugh followed by a small grimace.

"Are you in pain?" James asked, concerned.

"Only when I laugh," Harry confessed.

"That'll be the broken ribs," Remus put in. "You broke quite a few bones, you know. Madame Pomfrey already has them knitting, so you should be good as gold again in the morning."

"How are _you _feeling?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I'm fine." Remus said smiling, "I'm on the mend. I'll be back in class again on Monday."

"Good. I missed you. Having Snape twice in one day was more than anyone should ever have to bear."

Remus gave a small laugh. "I hope he wasn't too bad."

"He gave us five feet of homework!" Ron protested.

"Five feet on kneazles? I don't know that there's even five feet worth of information on them. They're really not all that interesting."

"We didn't study kneazles," Hermione said. "We studied werewolves."

"Oh, I see," Remus said softly, a cloud passing over his face. He quickly brightened. "Well, I'm sure everyone will be happy when I tell them they don't have to turn it in."

"But I've already finished it," Hermione protested.

"I haven't," Ron said brightly.

"How's the search for Pettigrew going?" Harry asked his father.

"It's not, really," James said. "Some muggle police thought they saw him last week in Kent, but it turned out to be a false alarm. They're completely worthless, those muggle police."

Sirius gave a small laugh. "You remember that time we got stopped by those muggle police on the motorbike?"

"Oh, yes," James said, smiling. "That was quite a day."

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"It was during the war. We were out on a reconnaissance mission on Sirius's flying motorbike when we ran afoul of some death eaters. They gave chase, and we beat a hasty retreat. We would have fought, but we were pretty outnumbered, and we didn't want to give away that we were with the Order of the Phoenix. Anyway, we were speeding down the road on the motorbike, looking for a good place to take off without being seen when a police car started coming after us. They finally caught up to us in an alley. They were squeezed in so tightly they could barely get out of their car. One of them actually popped all the buttons off his own uniform and snapped off the wing mirror with his backside." Here James had to stop talking to laugh at the memory. Sirius and Remus were both laughing as well.

When James had caught his breath, he continued, "So they finally get free of the car and they come charging up to us telling us how much trouble we're in because we weren't wearing helmets. Helmets! Can you believe it? There we were, running from death eaters, and this muggle policeman expects us to care about helmets! He also started shouting at us about going too fast and failing to stop for the police, so I say, 'We would have loved to stop and chat, only we were in a bit of a hurry.'

"So, this policeman says, 'Don't get smart. You're in a heap of trouble'." James stopped again to slow his laughter.

Sirius picked up where he left off, "Then he says, 'Names!' I thought he was asking for suggestions, so I told him him I've always liked 'Elvendork'. Then James pops us with, 'And the nice thing about Elvendork is that you can use it for a boy or a girl!' Then I say, 'Oh, did you mean our names?' So I told him our names. I think he thought I was making mine up. He told me things were about to get seriously black for me."

"That was when the death eaters caught up with us," James continued. "I almost felt bad for the policeman caught in the middle like that. They about went mental when we pulled out our wands. Thought they were drumsticks. We ended up levitating their car at the last minute and the death eaters all crashed into it. I thought the poor men were going to pass out from fright. By then, we figured we'd already exposed magic anyway, so we just told them it was nice to have met them and flew away on the motorbike."

Just then Madame Pomfrey, hearing the raucous laughter, came out of the office and shooed Ron and Hermione away as she gave Harry a sleeping potion and ordered him to drink it. After a short argument, she agreed to let James and Sirius stay.

"He's going to be furious when he finds out he can't play quidditch anymore," Sirius said after Harry had fallen asleep.

"About that," James said, a touch sheepishly, "I'm starting to think maybe I was too hasty."

"Well, if it makes a difference, I've decided to give him patronus lessons." Remus told his friends. "He needs to be able to fight the dementors."

"That's a great idea!" James said, smiling. "I wished I'd thought of it first."

"You always did come up with the best ideas," Sirius said approvingly.

"If he can fight off the dementors, then it will certainly be safe for him to play," James said, sighing in relief.

"I suppose I'll have to give him back his Nimbus 2000," Sirius said. "Bugger. I really liked that broomstick."

Remus laughed. "You've got more money than you know what to do with. You could go buy yourself a Firebolt if you wanted to. Why in the world are you bothered about a Nimbus 2000?"

"It's got sentimental value, of course," Sirius said. "Harry gave it to me. I wouldn't want to trade it for a Firebolt."

"You know, speaking of Firebolts, I think I've just had an idea," James said with a smile. "Think how happy Harry will be in the morning when Hedwig brings him his brand new Firebolt."

Sirius and Remus both smiled thinking of Harry's joy. "Brilliant," Sirius said.

"I suppose this means a trip to Diagon Alley," James said, standing. "Would either of you care to accompany me?"

"I wouldn't miss it," Sirius said quickly, rising to his feet.

"I think I'll feel up to a quick trip," Remus added, standing slowly and stretching gingerly. "But we'd better go quickly. If Madame Pomfrey catches me trying to leave, her head just might explode."

"I don't know that I'd mind seeing that," Sirius said lightly.

"I would. It would be an awful mess," James replied. "Come on."

Together, the three of them walked to Sirius quarters and used the floo network to get to the Leaky Cauldron. Then they made their way to quality quidditch supplies where they had a grand time picking out Harry's new Firebolt and imagining how excited he would be to receive it.

"I almost wish I could be there to see his face," James told his friends.

"I'll take a picture for you," Sirius assured him.

"That seems a plan," James agreed. "Come on, let's go to Gambol and Japes. I haven't sent Harry any fireworks for far too long."

The three men sloshed off together through the rain-drenched streets, determined to spoil their favorite boy after such a terrifying day.

* * *

_A/N: For anyone who's interested, the story about the motorbike comes from the "Harry Potter Prequel" which you simply must read if you haven't already. It's hilarious. I've read it about eight times and it still cracks me up. For some reason, I can't post a link to it, but if you do a google search for "Harry Potter Prequel", it's the first entry. You can also get to it from the "Harry Potter Prequel" wikipedia page._

_I added a few details about why they were where they were, but I don't want anyone thinking I was the one who came up with the whole scenario. I wish I could come up with stuff that funny._


	16. The Marauders' Map

The next morning, Harry awoke before the sun and stretched gingerly before determining that he was no longer in any pain. He sat up and grabbed his glasses and wand off the bedside table. "Lumos," he said softly and the wand gave off a soft light. Harry looked around and quickly found the chocolate frogs Sirius had left on his bedside table. He tucked into them hungrily and then stood slowly. His body was still stiff, but otherwise he felt well. He went to the window and watched the sun rise over the mountains. Sometime in the night, the rain had turned to snow and the muted golden light of the morning sun reflected off the white world like a thousand glowing diamonds winking at him from the trees and the ground.

Harry smiled. He had always particularly loved winter. That was probably his father's doing, Harry thought to himself. James's excitement at each snowfall was contagious; the man adored playing in the snow. He was just like an overlarge child whenever it snowed - throwing snowballs, sledding, eating snow cream, building snowmen and snow forts, and making snow angels. Looking out the window, Harry suddenly missed his father, even though he had seen the man only the day before. The pristine blanket of snow clashed brilliantly with Harry's emotions. He wished he could just sit in his father's lap like he had when he was a little boy and have his father hug and kiss all his fears away. But, while his dad could search under his bed for monsters and show him that nothing was hiding in his closet, there was little James could do about the monsters he feared now: dementors and dark wizards and grims and always, always, the looming specter of Lord Voldemort's inevitable return.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Madame Pomfrey's voice came sternly from behind him. Harry turned to face her.

"I felt better," he said. "I needed to stretch my legs."

Madame Pomfrey checked him over thoroughly and, by the time she declared him fit enough to return to his common room, the sun had risen completely and covered the world in the bright glare of its light on the freshly fallen snow. Harry thanked Madame Pomfrey and made his way to Gryffindor tower. He arrived just as the tower was coming to life. By the time he had showered and changed, Ron and Hermione were awake and so Harry joined them as they made their way to the Great Hall.

Harry had been in darker moods, but not many. He was thankful to have another day off to catch up on homework and try to relax after the previous day's frustrations. He was considering dropping in on Hagrid to see how he was. The ministry had decided to put Buckbeak on trial for attacking Malfoy, and Hagrid was taking it hard. He refused to show them anything more dangerous than flobberworms in class, and the third years were growing bored.

At breakfast, Harry tried to feign contentedness for his friends. He was vaguely aware that pouting did not become him, but he somehow couldn't quite make himself stop when everything seemed to be going so badly. After breakfast, there was the flurry of wings that announced the post had arrived, and Harry looked up more out of habit than expectation. He had had a care package from his father earlier in the week that contained a stash of sugar quills and some reinforcements for his dungbomb collection, which he planned to lob into Sirius's classroom the first chance he got. He was surprised to see Hedwig and two school owls struggling with a large, oblong package. Hedwig and the other owls dropped the package into Harry's lap and Harry petted her gratefully before she nipped his finger affectionately and flew away for a nap. Immediately after her, another owl arrived with a smaller package for Harry, and a final owl dropped a letter on his plate.

"What in the world?" Ron asked, his mouth full of scrambled eggs.

Harry opened the letter first. It was from his father. "Harry, I thought you could use a little pick-me-up. Consider it an early Christmas present. Love, Dad," was all the letter said.

Harry tore into the smaller package and found a collection of assorted fireworks and sweets. Then he tore into the larger one and his mouth dropped open in awe. There, in the box, was a brand new Firebolt. Harry was distracted from the beautiful sight momentarily by a flash of light and the click-click of a camera. Expecting to see Colin Creevey, Harry turned to instead find Sirius standing there snapping pictures at a ferocious rate.

"I promised your dad I'd document this," Sirius said, laughing at Harry's wide-open mouth.

Remus came up behind him. "You should take another one now that he's looking at you. See if you can get a good shot of his uvula."

Sirius lifted the camera again and Harry shut his mouth. "When did he do this?"

"Yesterday after you fell asleep," Sirius said, smiling. "Dragged us off in the rain to Diagon Alley to pick it out. You should have seen him. He was like a boy in a sweet shop picking that thing out for you. It's been quite some time since I've seen him so excited."

Wood came running up at that moment. "Harry, McGonagall's just told me. I'm so glad your dad changed his mind. Can I see your Firebolt?"

"What do you mean changed his mind?" Harry asked.

"About you being able to play quidditch, of course," Wood said.

Sirius cleared his throat loudly as Wood reached out to take Harry's broomstick. "Your dad was less than happy after you fell yesterday and for a moment he declared you wouldn't be allowed to play anymore, but he changed his mind."

"How'd you get him to come around?" Harry asked, trying not to think about how close he had come to losing the one thing that was making his life bearable at the moment.

"Actually, it was Remus's doing," Sirius said, clapping Remus heartily on the shoulder.

"Why don't you come by my office later, and I'll tell you all about it," Remus said, deftly dodging Fred and George as they came running over to see the Firebolt. "I think you're going to be a little busy for the next few minutes."

Indeed, Harry was soon the center of attention as all the Gryffindors came to examine the Firebolt. The best part, of course, was when Harry sneaked a peek at the Slytherin table and saw the look of envy on Draco Malfoy's face.

Harry could hardly stand to tear himself away from the Firebolt, so he finally decided to just bring it with him to Remus's office that afternoon. He had spent most of the morning trying it out with the rest of the Gryffindor quidditch team. It was almost like an extension of his body, responding to his slightest touch. Remus laughed when he saw that Harry was carrying the broomstick with him.

"Thanks for convincing my dad to let me keep playing," Harry said, sitting in the chair that Remus offered him.

Remus smiled, "I was glad to do it. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about it. I was thinking that you might like to learn to fight off the dementors."

"You can fight them?" Harry asked, perking up in his chair.

"Of course," Remus said, handing Harry a cup of hot cocoa. "It's very advanced magic, but I have every confidence you can learn to master it. We can start lessons after Christmas. We'd start sooner, but I have to make a few preparations and it'll take me at least that long to get ready."

Harry nodded and sipped his cocoa. "Thank you," he said gratefully. "I wish I weren't affected by them so much."

Remus nodded sadly. "I wish you weren't, too, Pup."

"Yesterday, when I fell, I know I heard my mother screaming, and I heard a man laughing. It was awful laughter, not happy like laughter's supposed to be, but cruel. It would have sent chills up your spine."

Remus's heart broke to hear Harry describe the moment the dementors forced him to relive. No one deserved so much pain, least of all Harry.

"Was that Voldemort?" Harry asked.

Remus nodded slowly. "Probably," he said softly. "I only heard him speak once. It was during the war, and I was serving as something of an envoy to a certain marginalized group, trying to convince them to join our side. The death eaters were fighting for the loyalties of this particular group as well, and one day Voldemort himself made an appearance in one of their more populous hideouts. It was just as you described it. His voice sent chills down my spine. It was high and cold and cruel, like he'd just as soon kill you as look at you. Of course, he probably would."

Harry nodded, shivering at the memory of the icy laugh.

"Did your dad ever tell you about the time we stole Slughorn's mead?" Remus asked, changing the subject. He could see that the boy badly needed a laugh.

Harry shook his head.

"Slughorn is a man who loves his mead, so he nearly always had some of it on hand. One night, in our fourth year, the marauders sneaked into his private quarters and took a few of his finest bottles of it. We took it back up to the common room and started drinking it and by breakfast, we were completely pissed. We probably would have gotten away with it except that Sirius decided we should thank Slughorn for his gift. It seemed like a good idea to us all at the time, so we went stumbling down to the Great Hall to tell him thank you. Next thing any of us knew, Sirius was on his knees in front of the staff table serenading the professors with a particularly vulgar drinking song and James was standing on the Slytherin table dancing a jig. I've heard that I may have been singing along with Sirius, but I think that part must have been made up."

Harry laughed, thinking of Sirius singing drinking songs to McGonagall.

"McGonagall waited until we were good and hung over before she started shouting at us. It was murder, let me tell you. Luckily, she decided that that was plenty punishment enough and didn't do anything else. Slughorn threatened to write to our parents, but Wormtail started crying and begged him not to, and the poor man completely melted. We still had to go to all our classes, at least until we all started puking in the middle of History of Magic. That got us excused for the rest of the day."

* * *

That week, Harry lived for quidditch. The more time he spent on the Firebolt getting used to it, the more convinced he became that all hope of winning the quidditch cup was not lost. It was no wonder England's quidditch team had ordered Firebolts for all their players. It was an amazing broomstick.

Spending so much time on the quidditch pitch served the secondary purpose of keeping his mind off Ron. Ron began behaving oddly around Harry on Sunday and Harry wasn't sure why. Finally, at dinner on Monday, he asked Ron if everything was all right.

"Fine," Ron snapped.

"I'm not stupid, you know," Harry snapped back. "I can tell something's wrong. Why don't you just tell me already?"

"It's nothing," Ron said glumly. "It's just, well, it must be really nice to have so much money you can just go out and buy a new broomstick on a whim."

Harry said nothing. He was well acquainted with Ron's occasional bitterness over his family's poverty. Harry tried hard not to rub his own wealth in Ron's face, but he could hardly be expected to stop receiving gifts. "I really don't think about money that much," Harry finally said, hoping he sounded more sympathetic than he felt.

"That's because you've always had it!" Ron snapped before stomping out of the Great Hall. On Hermione's urging, Harry went after him, but by the time he got there, Ron was already in bed and refused to speak to him.

Having a row with his best friend seemed to suck the joy out of everything. Then there was the fact that the second Hogsmeade trip was that Saturday, and the other students were already talking of nothing else. Hermione tried to cheer Harry up and get Harry and Ron to reconcile, but both boys refused to apologize. Harry felt that the Firebolt was the first good thing that had happened to him in a while and resented Ron for ruining his excitement over having received it.

They didn't reconcile until Friday afternoon, when Hermione finally told them she couldn't stand being caught in the middle anymore and threatened to hex them both if they didn't start talking to one another. Then she stomped away in tears.

"What's with her?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. We'll talk to one another when we're good and ready."

"Girls are mental," Ron said, shaking his head. After a brief pause, he said softly, "Listen, Harry, I know you didn't ask for the broomstick, and I'm sorry I got so mad about it."

"It's all right," Harry said. "You want to have a go on it?"

"Do I?" Ron asked excitedly, and the two of them ran out to the quidditch pitch to practice their flying. They didn't even mind when the Slytherins showed up to practice and Snape took house points off both of them.

The next morning found Harry once again trying to be excited for his friends as they talked about Hogsmeade. Harry sat forlornly through breakfast ans then despondently accompanied his friends to the main entrance where Filch was busy checking names off a long list and checking every student who passed by with a sneak-o-scope.

Once Ron and Hermione were gone, Harry made his way up to the Gryffindor common room determined to at least use his day alone to catch up on some homework. When he got to the top floor, Fred and George were there waiting for him. They motioned him into an empty classroom.

"We've been thinking, mate," Fred began.

"You should go to Hogsmeade," George said.

"And we know just the way to get you there," Fred finished, pulling an old folded piece of parchment out of its pocket.

"What is that?" Harry asked.

"That, my friend, is the secret to our success," George said, taking the parchment from Fred, unfolding it with a flourish, and laying it across a dusty desk. "This is the Marauder's Map."

Fred put his wand to the map and said, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Harry watched in awe as ink began to form tendrils out across the page until he realized he was looking at a map of Hogwarts School. The top of the page said, in large curly script:

_"Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs  
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers  
are proud to present  
THE MARAUDERS' MAP_"

"Messieurs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," George said, holding his hand over his heart. "We owe them so much."

"We nicked this little beauty from Filch's office our first year. It's taught us more than any teacher in the school. And now, much as it pains us to do so, we are passing it on to you." Fred explained.

Harry stared at the map. He knew immediately who had created it, of course, and he smiled to think of his father and his friends creating such a thing during their time at Hogwarts. "How does it work?" Harry asked.

"Look closely. The little dots you see are people. Look, there's Dumbledore," Harry looked where George was pointing and saw that Dumbledore was currently pacing back and forth in his office. "And here's us," George continued. Harry looked again and saw three dots labeled "Fred Weasley", "George Weasley" and "Harry Potter" standing precisely where their real-life counterparts were standing. Harry's smile widened as he realized what he could do with this map.

"Now, to get to Hogsmeade," Fred began. "There are several secret passageways leading to Hogsmeade. We're pretty sure Filch knows about these two," Fred said, pointing to two of them.

"This one," George said, pointing, "looks like it should lead to Hogsmeade, but someone's gone and planted to whomping willow right over top of it. This one's caved in," George continued, pointing to a fourth passage. "We reckon your best bet is this one," George continued, pointing to a passageway that came out next to a stairway near the DADA classroom. "The entrance is a statue of a one-eyed witch. You'll have to be careful coming out because it opens to Honeyduke's Cellar, but we have every confidence in you."

"Oh, and one more thing," Fred added. "When you're finished, don't forget to wipe the map, like this." Fred pointed his wand at the map and said, in a clear voice, "Mischief Managed."

"This is brilliant!" Harry said excitedly. "I'll never be able to repay you."

"Don't worry about it," George said. "Just promise us you'll give ickle Wonniekins a fright."

Harry agreed, knowing he wouldn't do it. He didn't want to risk another row. He thanked Fred and George and went to his dormitory to get his cloak. Then he opened the map, solemnly swore he was up to no good, and made his way down to the statue of the one-eyed witch. As he got close to the witch, he kept his eye on the dots that were teachers and prefects, but none were nearby. When he arrived at the statue, he looked at the map and saw his own dot appear to place its wand to the witch statue and say "Dissendium!" Harry copied it and watched in awe as the witch's hump opened to reveal a passageway. Harry scrambled through it, wiped the map, and ran down the passageway, emerging carefully into the Honeyduke's cellar.


	17. Happenings in Hogsmeade

Harry carefully opened the trapdoor in the Honeyduke's cellar, peering out of it to be sure no one was around. He had to wait for a clerk to make his way out of the room before he could emerge, covered in the cloak. He went out into the main room of the store and was relieved to see Ron and Hermione there. "Hello," he whispered to Ron. "It's me. Harry."

Ron turned. "How did you get out of the castle?" He whispered.

"I found a secret passageway."

"Brilliant!" Ron said.

"If I give you some money, will you buy me some Droobles Best Blowing Gum?" Harry asked. Ron quickly agreed.

Hermione was not quite so excited as Ron about Harry's sneakiness, but she was glad that Harry was able to get out of the castle for a bit.

Hogsmeade was every bit as wonderful as Harry remembered it being. He spent more money than he had any right to in Honeyduke's and then did the same in Zonko's joke shop. Finally, Harry, Ron, and Hermione ducked into the Three Broomsticks for butterbeers, Harry covering himself carefully in his invisibility cloak as they crunched across the snow. He almost choked when his father walked in with Remus, Sirius, Hagrid, and Professor McGonagall in tow. Hermione moved a Christmas tree in front of their table so that they would not be seen and Harry gulped down his butterbeer quickly while his father and the others sat just on the other side of it.

"Are you well, Rosmerta?" Sirius asked the barmaid in a deep, silky voice when she came to take their drink orders. "You look distressed."

"I've lost my wand," Madame Rosmerta answered. "I can't think what could have happened to it. I feel naked without it."

The others, save Hagrid, nodded sympathetically. They all knew the feeling of incompleteness that came from being separated from one's wand.

"How goes the the search for Pettigrew, James?" Professor McGonagall asked when Rosmerta had gone to get their drinks.

"Not well, I'm afraid. He hasn't been spotted, and with his animagus form being what it is, he could very well be anywhere by now. We don't ever know where he is unless he transforms and is recognized." James said. Hearing his father's voice filled Harry with guilt over his disobedience. James would be furious at him if he knew.

"Did you know Pettigrew was an animagus?" Hermione whispered.

"No," Harry whispered back, "Now shut up. I want to hear."

"Wha's his animagus form?" Hagrid asked.

"He's a rat," Sirius said, pursing his lips. "Rather appropriate after what he did, don't you think?"

Remus readily agreed.

"Wha' do yeh mean?" Hagrid asked.

"Don't you remember Pettigrew?" Sirius asked.

"Not really," Hagrid said. "I remember hearin' his name more than I remember him."

"He was a little lump of a boy," McGonagall said. "He used to follow you three around like he thought you'd hung the moon."

"Yes," Remus said quietly. "He was our friend. Or at least we thought he was. The four of us were nearly inseparable. We never saw his betrayal coming."

Sirius spoke. "It was a terrifying time. We never knew who we could trust and who we couldn't. We'd known for quite some time that someone was feeding Voldemort--" at this Hagrid and McGonagall both shuddered, but James and Remus showed no reaction. Sirius continued as though it hadn't happened, "--information about James and Lily. It seemed he was always a step ahead of them no matter what they did. I'm ashamed to admit I thought it was Remus."

"He almost had me convinced it was as well," James confessed, "though I found it difficult to believe."

"When we decided to do the fidelius charm, they were going to use me as secret-keeper," Sirius continued, "but I convinced them to switch to Peter at the last minute. I thought Voldemort--" another shudder went through Hagrid and McGonagall, "--would come after me because Peter had always been so timid and frightened that no one in their right mind would ever use him. Little did I know he'd joined ranks with the death eaters. We'd given the little berk exactly what he wanted. He ran straight to Voldemort--" another shudder, " and told him right where to find them.

"James was at my place that night or he probably would have been killed as well. He'd brought a photo album of Harry over to show me how much he'd grown. After he left, I realized he'd left it behind, so I went to take it to him. I got there maybe five minutes after James did. It had only just happened. It was awful. It was the worst thing I've ever seen. The whole top floor of the house was blown away, and James was on the ground screaming for Lily and Harry.

"I went charging into the house like an idiot hoping Voldemort was still in there so I could kill him myself. That was how I found Harry, not a scratch on him except the cut on his forehead. He wasn't even crying. Just looked at me and held his arms up like he'd been waiting for me to come. He never did start to cry until he saw James, then he started fighting me tooth and nail to get to him. It took some doing before I managed to convince James that Harry was really alive. He was such a mess. I made him come to my place and gave him a sleeping potion, and then I went after Pettigrew.

"I don't know what I was planning, but I probably would have killed him if he hadn't been ready for me. He tried to frame me for the whole thing. He didn't know James had survived. He started shouting for the whole world to hear about how I had turned Lily and James in and then he cut off a piece of his own finger, blew up the street behind him, including the twelve unlucky muggles who happened to be on it at the time, transformed, and took off. I was still standing there like a dolt trying to wrap my mind around what had just happened when the aurors showed up.

"I actually got arrested and spent the night in Azkaban. Next day, it didn't take long for James to tell everyone what had really happened, and I was released. Good thing, too. I don't think I'd have lasted long at all in there. It was dreadful." Sirius shuddered and shook his head as though trying to shake away the chill of the dementors. "I think I'd be one of those people who would go mad and die after about a month."

"Oh, you'd be surprised what you can endure when you have to," Remus said quietly.

"It was really only luck that we caught Peter the first time," James said, his voice sounding small and odd, as though he were fighting back tears. "It was the Germans who caught him. He transformed in Heidelberg to buy some food and was recognized on the street by someone from their ministry. She stunned him and kept her wand on him until the German authorities arrived.

"After that, we kept him in his rat form in an unbreakable glass box except during his trial. It was a very quick affair, what with my testimony and Sirius's. I remember he begged me for mercy when they took him away. It was unnerving. Part of me still saw my old friend and wanted to give it to him, but the other part of me just wanted to see him suffer for what he'd done to Lily and to Harry. It takes a special kind of evil to hurt a baby. Finally I told him I'd already given him mercy by making sure he had a trial. That was when Barty Crouch was running things, and he had decided that death eaters didn't deserve trials. I always disagreed with him about that, and I was very relieved when the practice went the way of the dodo."

Behind the tree, Hermione and Ron were staring at Harry, or at least where they believed Harry to be. Harry himself couldn't believe what he'd just heard. As anger gripped him, he leapt to his feet and ripped off the invisibility cloak.

"Harry," James cried when Harry came out from behind the tree. "What are you doing here?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Harry asked furiously. "Why didn't you ever tell me he was your friend?"

The rest of the pub turned as Harry's voice rose. Harry was vaguely aware of McGonagall looking at him disapprovingly, but he didn't care.

"Harry, calm down and we'll talk about it," James said, standing and taking hold of Harry's shoulder. Harry jerked away.

"I will not calm down!" He shouted "You had no right to keep this from me!"

James took Harry's arm and, gripping it hard enough that Harry could not jerk himself free, walked Harry away from the table. When he spoke, his voice was soft through his gritted teeth. "Harry James Potter, you are behaving like a prat and you are embarrassing me, and if you don't stop it right this instant, I am going to do something that will embarrass you so badly you'll still be having nightmares about it when you're fifty."

Harry glared at his father for a moment trying to decide whether he was bluffing. He did have his own reputation to worry about after all, but Harry had seen him do plenty of crazy things and could easily imagine him making a humiliating scene here in the pub. "Fine," Harry finally said, "Let go of me."

As soon as James let go, Harry slipped on the cloak and took off running. He ran until he could not run any more and then he sat down on a boulder to catch his breath. He had not been there long when James came running up, followed by Sirius and Remus, who were followed by Ron and Hermione. James stopped running next to the boulder and flicked his eyes around, looking straight at Harry. Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and tried to be quiet, but it was difficult when he was so out of breath.

"We really don't need an audience for this," James said breathlessly.

"Are you sure?" Remus asked. "We don't mind staying."

"No, thank you, Moony. I think we could use a little privacy."

"I've just run my lungs out," Sirius said, doubling over to put his hands on his knees as he heaved, trying to catch his breath, "and now you're going to make me leave again? I'm getting too old for this."

"I'm not out of breath, and we're the same age," Remus pointed out.

"Well, bully for you!" Sirius snapped.

"Do you mind?" James asked.

"We'll be in the Broomsticks," Remus said, pulling Sirius, Ron, and Hermione away.

As soon as they were gone, James reached up and took the cloak off of Harry's head. Harry stared at the ground and wouldn't look at him. "Budge up, would you?" James said casually. Harry scooted around to make space for James, who brushed the snow off the boulder and then sat so close to Harry that their shoulders were touching. He waited for Harry to break the silence.

"How did you find me?" Harry finally asked.

"It wasn't terribly difficult to follow your footprints in the snow." James said wryly. "Won't you please take that cloak off. It's very disconcerting sitting next to a floating head."

"You know, I've heard you and Sirius and Remus talk about Wormtail from time to time, and I always knew there had been a fourth marauder, but I never would have thought it was Peter Pettigrew. Why didn't you tell me about him?" Harry asked bitterly, rising to remove the cloak.

"Because it's not something I particularly want to revisit, especially not with you. Besides, it's not like you could have done anything about it."

"But it's strange for me to think you were friends with him, and I never knew." Harry said, the slightest hint of a whinge sneaking into his voice.

"I've been friends with a lot of people you don't know about. When I was seven, my best friend was a boy called Tristan Carpenter. He used to wipe bogeys on me. I always thought he was about the most dimwitted person I'd ever met, and then when we went to Hogwarts, he got sorted into Ravenclaw, of all things, and figured out he had a talent for healing arts. Now he's one of the most well-respected healers down at St. Mungo's, which just goes to show you, you can never judge a person by their bogeys."

Harry was in no mood for jokes. "You should have told me. I had a right to know, especially since it's me he's after." Harry accused.

"We don't actually know it's you he's after. That's just conjecture on our parts," James said softly. Then he took a deep breath and continued in a sterner tone, "And, no, I shouldn't have told you. Harry, you're not going to want to hear this, but you're young and you're inexperienced, and you have this annoying little tendency to go running into very dangerous situations without thinking. None of those things make me particularly keen on telling you when there's a threat against you. And there always has been, ever since that night.

"About three months after that, three death eaters kidnapped a very good friend of mine and his wife, aurors the both of them, and tortured them until they went insane trying to get them to tell where you and I were hiding. When you were six, a Death Eater tried to get to you while you were staying with Sirius. When you were nine, one showed up at Remus's house planning to imperius him and get him to take you. When you were eleven, it was Voldemort himself trying to get to the Philosopher's Stone.

"At what point should I have started telling you? When you were four? When you were ten? You never would have slept a wink if you had known who was after you! You shouldn't have to worry about these things, Harry, and I've tried very hard to keep it so that you didn't have to. You're thirteen and a student, and it's not your job to worry about dark wizards. Your only job is to be thirteen while you still can and to have a grand time at Hogwarts."

Harry thought for a moment. Suddenly, he had a new appreciation for what it must be like to be his father. He _had_ always been a magnet for trouble. "I'm sorry," Harry said quietly. "I've been a prat."

"You're thirteen. It's in the job description." James said with a shrug. "I won't even begin to tell you what a prat I was when I was thirteen. You're light years more mature than I was."

Harry gave a small smile."Just out of curiosity, what would you have done if I had called your bluff in the Three Broomsticks?"

"I was planning to climb up on a table and start singing the stupidest song I could think of."

"I'm sure everyone in the pub is glad you didn't," Harry said, laughing. Harry had inherited his father's terrible singing voice, along with his tone deafness. Then a memory tingled suddenly in his mind. "You said Pettigrew was a rat?"

"Yes. Fitting, wasn't it?" James asked sardonically.

"This summer, in Surrey?" Harry asked.

"Don't think it hasn't crossed my mind," James told him. "That's part of why it took me so long the next day. It didn't take me ten minutes to scare the trousers off your Uncle Vernon and turn him into a quivering, apologizing mess. Git. No, what I was really there doing was combing the place with aurors. We didn't find anything. We never do. I'm starting to get rather cheesed off about it, actually. That's the problem with chasing a rat. They can hole up anywhere. For all we know, he was hiding right under our noses in Surrey and laughing at us the whole time. But no matter, there's still a rather small issue for us to discuss, and that is why you are in Hogsmeade when I know for a fact that you have not been given permission."

"It's a long story," Harry said.

"I've--"

"Got time," Harry finished with him. "Yes, I know."

"I'm assuming you found a secret passageway. There's no way you sneaked past the dementors at the gate. Was it the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor? I thought it had caved in so I didn't bother telling Fudge to post dementors there."

"No, that one's still caved in. It was the one behind the one-eyed witch." Harry admitted, hating the thought of having to tell Fred and George they had lost yet another secret passageway. He didn't want to tell, but he knew better than to lie to his father now. James didn't appear to be too angry, but he didn't want to test the man's temper.

"Bugger, I can't believe I forgot about that one! The marauders got caught coming out of it in Honeyduke's once when we were in second year and McGonagall caned the lot of us. After that we never used it. We always used the one under the Whomping Willow. It was much safer."

"That one's pretty well impassible now. The willow's so big you can't get to it. What did you say to Vernon that day?" Harry asked, attempting to change the subject. He was quite sure where his father's current line of inquiry was going to lead, and he wanted to derail the trajectory if at all possible.

"I took a leaf out of Sirius's book and threatened to turn him into a dormouse. Then I threatened to take him home with me and feed him to our cat." James said, trying and failing to suppress a smile as he remembered Vernon's wide-eyed disbelief.

"We don't have a cat," Harry said.

"Vernon doesn't know that," James said, elbowing Harry playfully.

"You're truly wicked," Harry said, his voice full of admiration.

"You're not bad yourself," James said. "But don't think I don't know you're trying to distract me."

Harry sighed and forced himself to meet his father's gaze. "Are you angry?"

"I think disappointed would be a better description."

Harry dropped his head. He hated to hear that word come out of James's mouth. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just wanted to have some fun. It's not fair that I never get to do the things that everyone else can do."

James put an arm around his shoulder and, taking his chin in the other hand, brought Harry's head up gently to meet his gaze. There was only sympathy in James's face.

"I know it's not easy," James said softly. "But Pettigrew's no fool. He knows you're at Hogwarts and he could very easily be hiding out around here without us knowing it. If he is trying to get to you, sneaking out of the castle is going to make it awfully easy on him."

Harry's heart fell at his father's words. "I never thought of it like that," he said softly. "I'm really sorry, Dad."

James gave him a small, sad smile. "I know you are, but why can't you ever just do as you're told?"

Harry shrugged, not sure what to say. "Am I in trouble?" He finally asked.

"Do you even have to ask that? You sneaked out of the castle with a madman on the loose. Of course you're in trouble. I'll be taking your invisibility cloak home with me and keeping it for a good long while, and I will also be ensuring that a certain trap door in the Honeyduke's basement is nailed shut until we find Pettigrew. You're on your own with McGonagall and Moony."

"Oh no, can't you do something?" Harry asked, slightly panicked. He couldn't decide which one of them he wanted to face less.

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. You deserve whatever they decide to dish out to you, and if I hear about you sneaking out of the castle again, I'll do quite a bit more than just take your cloak. Are we clear on that?"

"Yes," Harry said miserably.

"Good," James said sternly, then he held out his hand. "Hand it over."

Harry forlornly placed the cloak in his father's outstretched hand. "Remus is going to kill me." He whinged.

"He's going to have to wait in line," James said, folding the cloak and hiding it away in his robes. "I don't think I've seen McGonagall so angry since the time Sirius and I put a regurgitating charm on all the first floor toilets and flooded out the Slytherin common room. Good luck." James said cheerfully, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

"Couldn't you just pull me out of school again?" Harry asked hopefully.

James laughed, throwing back his head. "And miss this? Not bloody likely. It won't be so bad. Just be glad you're at Hogwarts now instead of in my day. If I had done what you did, I would have got the cane. You should consider yourself lucky."

"Why does everyone always tell me I should consider myself lucky when I'm in trouble? If I were lucky, I wouldn't have been caught in the first place." Harry said bluntly.

James smiled. "Come on, we have to get back. Your friends will be wanting to discuss a few things with you, I'm sure."

Feeling a bit as though he were walking to his own execution, Harry followed his father back into town. When they got there, McGonagall began shouting at him in the middle of the street. He hung his head and tried not to think about the assembling crowd of students watching the whole thing. Remus stood behind McGonagall the whole time making suggestions for harsher punishments until eventually she turned around and snapped at him that she had been dressing down students since before he was born and that she could handle it quite on her own, thank you very much.

Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing as Remus's eyes went wide and he took a large step backward and then tripped over a fourth-year Hufflepuff who had come to watch the fun. Sirius did laugh, and that got the assembled crowd laughing, which eventually got Remus laughing. Even McGonagall twitched her lips as though she were trying not to smile. Then she assigned Harry a week's worth of detentions, took more points off of him than he care to think about, and told him that he had better march himself right back up to the castle and that if he even so much as looked like he wasn't going straight there, he would be banned from the next quidditch match.

James quickly assured her that he would get Harry back up to the castle. Ron and Hermione promised to see him in the common room that night. They were not too keen on being anywhere near their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at the moment. Remus kept up a steady stream of scolding, eventually taking Harry roughly by the arm and tugging him along forcefully, until they were inside the castle. Harry looked to his father and Sirius both several times in an attempt to get one of them to rescue him, but neither of them would. They held back and talked in low voices. Harry couldn't make out what they were saying, but he could tell they were enjoying his discomfort. Finally, when they got to the entrance hall, Sirius told Remus to let Harry go, and he did with one more strong warning. Harry made a quick exit before he could change his mind. He shouted goodbye to his father over his shoulder as he ran up the stairs.


	18. Carpe Diem

_Warning for mention of corporal punishment._

* * *

The three remaining marauders stood in the entry hall of the castle staring after their favorite boy's retreating form.

"He's good. I'll give him that," Sirius said approvingly. "How in the world did he manage to get there?"

"We forgot about the passage behind the one-eyed witch." James said.

"Oh, right, that one," Sirius said. "Should we make Dumbledore a new map?"

"I was planning to suggest that very thing," James replied. "I can't believe we forgot that one."

"Come on, let's go upstairs and get started," Sirius suggested, and the three made their way up to the Astronomy tower.

"I just can't get over the Pronglet," Sirius said when they had arrived in his quarters and seated themselves around his dining table. "He's got nerve, I'll give him that."

"Please tell me you're not proud of him," Remus said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Sirius at least had the grace to look sheepish as he replied. "I can't help it. Oh, don't even pretend we wouldn't have done the exact same thing. I don't think I could even count how many times we sneaked off to Hogsmeade."

"Yes, but the difference was that when we sneaked off to Hogsmeade, no one was trying to kill us," James interrupted to say.

"I'm not excusing him, I'm just saying we would have done the same thing," Sirius said, holding his hands up innocently.

"It's times like this when I wish they hadn't decided to get rid of the cane," Remus said with a sigh.

"I've never wished that," James said. "The cane is barbaric. I couldn't bear the thought of Harry being caned."

"We got caned, and I don't think it hurt us too much," Remus responded.

"That's not the point," James retorted. "Just because we survived something miserable and turned out all right doesn't mean other people should be subjected to the same thing."

"I never knew it bothered you so much. You always seemed to just take it in stride." Remus said.

"Yes, of course it bothered me," James snapped. "The first time I ever got it, I actually wrote to my parents and begged them to bring me home."

"I never knew that," Sirius cut in. "I'm glad they didn't. I don't think I ever would have forgiven myself. The first time you got the cane was for something I had done."

"Yes, well," James said. "My dad wrote back to me and was very sympathetic. He told me that he was terribly sorry I'd been caned and that he knew first-hand how miserable it was, but that I had to be prepared to accept the consequences for my actions. He suggested that if being caned bothered me so much I start behaving myself, or at least get better at not getting caught." James gave a small smile at the memory of his father's ancient words of encouragement. "That was when he sent me the invisibility cloak. Told me to use to save my backside."

Sirius laughed. "Your dad was something, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he was," James said, smiling. "I still miss him sometimes."

"You're very like him, you know," Sirius added.

"Oh, no, he was a much better man than I am," James said, his smile drooping. "I'm really very selfish."

"I don't think that's true," Sirius corrected him. "I've seen you do some amazingly selfless things. You took the cane for me once! If that's not selfless, I don't know what is." Sirius looked at James, amazed for a moment to hear that his friend thought himself selfish. James was easily the most selfless person Sirius had ever met, except for possibly Harry. Although in the case of the latter, it was cause for concern more than praise. The thought of something happening to Harry terrified Sirius down to his very soul.

"So, what did you do to Harry?" Remus asked, turning to James.

"I took the invisibility cloak and promised I'd be shutting the passageway he used."

"That's it?" Remus asked, incredulous. "James, I'm surprised at you. I would have thought even you would have done something a little more than that."

"I did," James said with a small smile. "I set you loose on him."

Remus turned a murderous look on his friend. "Do you think I enjoy being the bad guy all the time?" He snapped.

"I always thought you did," Sirius said.

"You do it so well," James added, his smile broadening.

"Well I don't," Remus said, his voice getting softer as he got angrier. "Don't you think I'd like to wink at his antics and laugh at his cheek and pass all the hard bits off to someone else?"

"That's not fair, Moony," James said quickly. "I do most of the hard bits, and you know it. I may not be as strict with him as you think I should be, but I discipline him much more than you give me credit for. We had a very long talk before we ever got to you, and you can trust me when I say that he realizes he was an idiot, and he's sorry. I don't see any point in beating him about the head with it."

"This is serious!" Remus insisted. "What if Wormtail had been in Hogsmeade? He could have been taken, and we never would have known what had happened to him."

"Moony, just drop it," Sirius said. "Wormtail wasn't in Hogsmeade, and Harry isn't hurt. James said he took care of it, and that should be good enough for you."

"I'm a little too familiar with James's definition of 'taking care' of something to find that convincing. Sneaking off to Hogsmeade was reckless and dangerous, and he needs more than just a slap on the wrist this time." Remus said, his voice so low it was nearly a whisper.

"And what do you recommend, o wise one?" James said, his voice rising with his temper. He had had quite enough of this.

"I meant it when I said I think he deserves the cane. This was not just some harmless jaunt off to the sweet shop! If he were my son, I think I'd give him a sound spanking." Remus said, crossing his arms over his chest and staring almost defiantly at James, as though daring him to disagree.

"You don't spank a thirteen-year-old. That's far too old." James said definitively.

"You spanked him a few months ago," Remus pointed out.

"And he was really too old for it then, but those were extenuating circumstances. He'd been bitten by a basilisk, and even so I'm still not completely convinced that it was the right thing to have done."

"It was the right thing," Sirius interjected. "And you know how I feel about smacking." Sirius had always been vocal in these arguments against smacking. His own abusive father had left him strongly against any sort of physical correction for children. He was aware that James occasionally smacked Harry, and he had always refrained from specifically giving James advice on the matter unless he was asked, but they had talked about it in the abstract a few times, and James knew his views. Remus, on the other hand, was strongly in favor of smacking. James fell somewhere in between, insisting that it was useful as an attention-getter in extreme cases or as a punishment of last resort. That was how he had used it with Harry. He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he had given his son a spanking, and each time it had been because Harry had done something very dangerous.

"You see," Remus said. "Even Padfoot agrees with me."

"I didn't say I agree with you now. I said James did the right thing in smacking Harry over the Chamber of Secrets. I think it would be completely out of order to smack him now."

"You have to do something, James," Remus continued. "You can't just let this sort of behavior go unchecked. Children need--"

"How many children have you got, then?" James shouted. "How many have you raised? Come on, tell me. What makes you such a bloody expert?"

"That's not on, James. You know how much I care about Harry," Remus said, his voice low and deadly.

"But he's not your son, is he?" James shouted, standing up and beginning to pace the floor. "You weren't the one getting up with him in the middle of the night when he had nightmares, were you? You weren't the one who fretted over him when he was sick! You don't look in his eyes and see your dead wife! You don't have to look at the scar on his head and be reminded about how you weren't there to protect him! You love him, and you care about him, but you don't have the slightest idea what it's like to be his father! Not a bloody clue!" James threw himself onto Sirius's sofa and put his head in his hands.

Remus and Sirius looked at one another. "You're right," Remus responded, "I was out of order, and I'm sorry. I was only trying to help."

"Why does your idea of helping always consist of telling me what a bad father I am?" James asked, his voice sounding weak and tired.

"Is that what you think?" Remus asked, getting up and crossing the room to drop down onto the sofa next to James. "I never meant to make you think that. I think you're a wonderful father, James. And I think Harry is a wonderful boy. I know I'll never have children, but if I were to have them, I would hope I could be half as good a father to them as you are to Harry. You're doing a great job with him, and I never intended to make you think otherwise. He scared me, is all. I do love him, even if I'm not his father."

"I know you do," James said evenly, lifting his head. "And I know you mean well."

"I thought you wanted our advice," Remus said softly. "But if you don't, I'll back off."

"It's not that I don't want your advice. Maybe just wait until I ask for it from now on?"

"Of course I will." Remus assured him.

There was a moment of silence before James began speaking again. "I know I'm not always as strict with Harry as I should be, but I am trying. When Lily was pregnant, I had great fun thinking about how wonderful having a child would be, and all the things I could teach that child and all the fun we'd have together. When Harry got here, it was a bit different than I expected, which I would have already known if I'd had half a brain, but I was young and stupid and naive and... stupid a bit more. After about a week, I panicked. I realized that this parenting thing was forever, and that my life would never be the same because this tiny little person was totally dependent on me. I was so young. I still felt like I was about twelve years old most of the time.

"I loved Harry, more than anything in the world, more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone, but I was scared to death, and I was ready to just call the whole thing off and put him back in. Lily was completely enamored, of course, couldn't get enough of him, and I was just waiting for the day he'd learn to talk so I could teach him naughty words. So, one day, I left Lily alone with him and went to my parents' house. My dad sat on the veranda with me and told me that being a father was the most important work I'd ever do in my whole life, and that he had every confidence I'd be good at it. He admitted that he'd been scared to death when I was born, and he was nearly twenty-five years older when I was born than I was when Harry was born, but he just decided that he was going to make sure being my dad was always his first priority.

"He told me that if he had one piece of advice, it was always to remember that my goal as a father is to eventually put myself out of a job, and that when I finally do there will be nothing more rewarding than for me to realize I've raised not just a son, but a friend. His father was a hard man. He wasn't cruel or abusive or anything like that, but he was strict and cold, and he always seemed to be worrying about what a father ought to do. It was like he was playing a role, and in the end, he never got to know his children because of it. My dad watched all that and decided that getting to know me and letting me get to know him was more important than being strict or making sure I always watched my tongue or making sure I always kept my nose clean.

"He told me that his friends were constantly telling him that he should get a handle on me, but that it was more important to him to have a relationship with me than it was to make sure I was under his thumb. He never let me run wild or anything, but he decided that he would rather me be a little bit out of hand and willing to ask him for help than so scared of him that I wouldn't come to him when I got myself in a tight spot. He said that there had been a few times he'd fallen into his father's trap and done something because he thought he was supposed to, not because he thought it was right, and that he always felt it was a mistake.

"I think it was the best bit of advice I've ever been given, and I've really tried to follow it with Harry. My relationship with him is the most important thing in my life, and I'm not willing to sacrifice it to make a point or to win an argument. And if that means sometimes he's cheekier to me than he should be, I can live with that, and if it means he sometimes makes stupid decisions, I can live with that too. What I can't live with is having him fear or resent me. It's important to me that he knows that there's nothing in the world he could ever do that's so bad he can't come to me for help, and I'm not going to judge him or berate him or make him miserable. I want him to know that I'm behind him one hundred percent no matter what.

"And when he's grown, I don't want him to have a lot of resentment toward me because I punished him too harshly when he was thirteen and sneaked out of school to have a day of fun in Hogsmeade. And that's all it was to him, a day of fun. He doesn't realize what the stakes are, and I don't expect him to. I think he knows he was an idiot, and I don't think he'll sneak out again. And if he does, I'll deal with that then. Not before. I'm going to at least give him the benefit of the doubt."

As James spoke, Sirius had joined his friends on the sofa and handed both of them a glass of firewhiskey. They sat in a row, glasses in hand, old friends in a familiar cadence.

"You're a wonderful father," Sirius said, "the best I've ever known. The Pronglet is lucky to have you, and I think he knows it."

"I agree," Remus said. "I'm so sorry for making you doubt yourself."

James took a sip of firewhiskey. "I think I'm going to feel much better about everything when Wormtail is back in Azkaban where he belongs."

"I'll drink to that," Sirius said, lifting his glass. The three men all raised their glasses and clinked them together.

"Cheers," Remus said quietly, gulping down his drink. On the sofa with him, his two oldest friends downed their drinks as well.

"Come on, let's get to this map business," Sirius said, rising. James and Remus returned to the table while Sirius refilled their glasses.

As the map came along and the bottle of firewhiskey slowly disappeared, the marauders' moods brightened. By dinnertime, they were in high spirits. Rather than going down to the Great Hall, Sirius scribbled a quick request on a spare piece of parchment and folded it into a paper airplane. A few minutes later, a house elf appeared with the folded note in his hand. He happily agreed to bring dinner for three to Sirius's quarters before disappearing with a loud crack.

"I always thought it was unfair that they can apparate in here and I can't," James said when it was gone.

"It's part of their magic, I suppose. They can do a lot of things we can't," Remus replied.

Just then the house elf reappeared with their dinner. They thanked him and tucked into the meal.

"So, what's happening with you and that woman of yours?" Sirius asked.

"She has a name, you know," James snapped.

"I know. Brenda, wasn't it?" Sirius asked, smiling.

"Bronwyn," James said, trying not to let it show that Sirius's teasing was getting to him.

"Sort of an odd name, isn't it?" Sirius asked.

"She's a Llewellyn," James explained.

Remus and Sirius both nodded knowingly. The Llewellyns all had traditional Welsh names, much the same way the Blacks were all named after stars and constellations.

"So, what's the story? Is she madly in love with you yet?"

"No," James said. "We've been talking quite a bit and we've started going to lunch together once or twice a week."

"Going to lunch together or _going to lunch together_?" Remus asked.

"The first one," James replied. "We're just friends."

"When are you going to ask her out, then?" Sirius asked.

James shrugged. "I don't know. Although, last week she invited me to come to her New Years' Eve party."

"So, what, she got tired of waiting for you to make the first move and decided to do it herself?" Sirius teased.

"No. She just asked me if I'd like to come. There'll be several people there I know, so it's not like I'll be stuck in a corner all night. I'm sort of looking forward to it, actually. It's not a date. At least, I don't think it's a date. Merlin's beard, what if it's a date?" James's eyes grew wide at the thought.

Sirius laughed. "If it was a date, I think you'd know it."

"But maybe you could ask her out at the party," Remus said. "That would be sort of romantic, don't you think? Ask her right at midnight. Tell her you want to start the New Year off right."

"That's not bad at all," Sirius said, turning to Remus. "Why are you still single?"

"Werewolf," Remus said, only a tiny hint of bitterness in his voice.

"I'm sure there's someone out there for you," James said quickly. "There are people who don't care. Look at us. You'll find someone someday."

Remus shrugged. He doubted that very much.

"So, are you going to do it?" Sirius asked.

James sighed. "I don't know. I'll think about it."

"You think about things way too much. Carpe diem, Prongs! Now or never!" Sirius said.

James took a deep breath. "Carpe diem," he repeated in a whisper.


	19. Trials and Tribulations

The first thing Harry had to do upon arrival in the Gryffindor common room was break the news to Fred and George about the loss of their favorite secret passageway. He found them listening to the England-Transylvania quidditch game on the wizard wireless. They took the news surprisingly well. After only a few expressions of disappointment, they readily offered Harry forgiveness, telling him that they understood quite well how adept parents could be at cajoling information out of people. The three of them spent the next few minutes wondering aloud if it would be worth trying to unblock the caved in passage. "There aren't any dementors posted there," Harry reported. "If we could get it cleared we could use it."

Fred and George seemed excited at the prospect of having a project "for the benefit of studentkind," as they put it.

However, it wasn't long before Harry's good sense overwhelmed his desire to participate in his friends' scheming. "I better not try it," he told them. "If I get caught in Hogsmeade again, my dad will kill me, if Remus and Professor McGonagall don't do it first."

"What's it like to be on a first name basis with professors?" George asked. "Only I've always wondered."

Harry shrugged. "I never thought about it too much. They're just Remus and Sirius to me. It's nice having them here, I suppose. It's good to have someone to stand up to Snape for me anyway."

"We noticed he likes to pick on you a bit. What's he got against you anyway?" Fred asked.

Harry shrugged again. "He hates my dad," he said glumly.

"How could anyone hate your dad?" George asked. "He's brilliant! I still can't believe he actually took you to see England play. Good thing they were playing better that day than they are today." They were currently down 200-0.

Harry shook his head. "At least Scotland and Ireland are still in," he said.

"I think Ireland might just win it this year," Fred said. "I bet you anything it comes down to Ireland and Bulgaria. They're easily the two best teams."

"I don't know," Harry replied. "Bulgaria's only good because they've got Krum. The rest of the team's not all that spectacular."

"It doesn't matter!" George said excitedly. "Krum's the best player in the world!"

Harry couldn't argue with that, so he settled into a chair and listened to the rest of the game with Fred and George, almost feeling relieved when the Transylvanian seeker caught the snitch, ending the game with a score of 390-10.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione asked, running to him, when she and Ron arrived in the common room that evening.

"I'm fine," Harry shrugged. "I wish she hadn't taken so many points, but you can't win them all."

"Was your dad furious?" She asked, looking at him apprehensively.

"Not too bad. More disappointed, but I think that's worse."

"I know what you mean," she told him. "I hate it when my parents give me the 'I'm so disappointed in you' line. It makes me feel like I could just shrivel up and die."

"I've actually wished the earth would just swallow me up whole a few times," Ron added.

"We've wished that, too," Fred added from his perch on the sofa.

"Shut up, you!" Ron snapped.

"Or you'll what?" George teased. "Run to Mummy?"

Ron glared at them. Harry wisely suppressed a smile. He often thought growing up with Fred and George would have been great fun, but at times like this he started to think better of that perception.

"Gits," Ron muttered as he stomped up to the dormitory with Harry and Hermione on his heels. "I hardly ever ran to Mum. I used to actually lie to her and tell her they hadn't done anything to me when they had just to keep them out of trouble. Not that they ever appreciated it. Maybe I should start telling her all the things they do."

"I think they'd probably make you regret it," Harry said lightly.

"You two are lucky to be only children," Ron said bitterly. "I can never win. I'm supposed to be perfect all the time or my parents hardly notice me, but then if I am perfect, they don't notice that either because someone else already did it first."

Harry and Hermione didn't know what to say, so they merely sat on either side of him. "We think you're pretty special," Hermione finally said.

"Yeah," Harry added. "And funny."

Ron smiled. Coming from the godson of Sirius Black, that was high praise indeed.

"And no one plays wizard's chess better than you do," Hermione said.

"And you're one of the bravest people I know. How many other people would have sacrificed themselves when we were looking for the Philosopher's Stone or jumped into the Chamber of Secrets with me or willingly gone into a glade full of acromantulas?"

"That wasn't exactly willingly," Ron corrected, but his ears were turning pink, and Harry could tell he was cheering up.

"Doesn't matter. You still did it." Harry said. "You're my best mate. I'd take you over Fred and George any day."

Ron smiled wider. "Really?" He asked.

"Hands down," Hermione readily assured him. "Now come on back downstairs."

Ron rose, obviously feeling much better about himself, and strode out of the dormitory. Behind his back, Harry and Hermione smiled at one another. A few smashing victories of wizard's chess later, and Ron was back to his old self.

Over the past week, Trelawney had been busy telling anyone who would listen, and a few people who wouldn't, that she had predicted Harry's fall. She was insufferable during their classes. Having gotten one prediction right out of the thousands she had made over the years seemed to have increased her desire to make a corpse out of Harry. On the Monday after Harry's ill-fated trip to Hogsmeade, she announced to the class that he was in danger of drowning, of being burned, and of being being attacked by someone close to him.

"Well, at least once you've been set on fire, you can douse yourself in the water you're supposed to drown in," Ron said encouragingly.

"Maybe I can manage to pull my attacker in with me and drown him, too," Harry added, smiling. He had long since given up being worried about Trelawney's predictions. After class, however, Trelawney made a rare voyage out of her lofty quarters and followed the Gryffindors to Transfiguration, where she insisted that Harry be removed from the quidditch team and have his grounds privileges removed - all for his own safety of course. McGonagall clearly did not take the threat seriously, and then Trelawney made a very grave tactical error in the form of an accusation that McGonagall cared more about winning the quidditch cup than ensuring the safety of her students. The conversation devolved very quickly after that into a long and loud argument that continued well past the point when it was obvious to everyone that Trelawney had lost - obvious to everyone except Trelawney, of course.

Finally, ten minutes after their class was supposed to start, McGonagall finally realized that Trelawney had no intention of leaving until she had been thoroughly validated and merely turned her back on the woman and launched into her lecture. It was impossible to follow, what with both of them trying to speak over one another, but McGonagall eventually won the battle of wills and Trelaweny flounced out of the Transfiguration classroom, stopping to pat Harry sadly on the shoulder as she passed him.

After she left, McGonagall let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry all of you had witness that," she told them. Then she started her lecture over from the top, speaking rather more quickly than usual to make up for the lost time.

The next time they had Divination, the Gryffindors arrived at Trelawney's trapdoor to hear the distant rumblings of an argument taking place in the classroom - this one between Trelawney and a man. "Maybe it's her boyfriend," Lavender Brown squealed excitedly. She was quite taken with Professor Trelawney.

"If it is, I don't think it's anything to be glad about," Parvati Patil said darkly. "That does not sound like a happy conversation."

Ron listened for a moment. Having the mother he had, he was quite skilled in listening to rumbling conversations taking place through closed doors and assessing the level of danger they posed. "Whoever it is, he sounds awfully mad," Ron said. "I don't think I'd want to be Trelawney right now."

Both boys were momentarily distracted by Hermione's appearance. She had just done her disappearing act again, one minute there and the next gone as suddenly as if she had disapparated. The boys had stopped asking her about it a full month before. "What's going on?" She asked.

"Someone's shouting at Trelawney. Whoever it is is really mad." Ron filled her in quickly.

"Well, it's high time someone put her in her place," Hermione said with a huff.

Harry and Ron both turned to look at her, their mouths agape. Criticizing a teacher was so un-Hermione-like that it took the two boys a moment to realize it had actually happened.

"What?" Hermione asked innocently. "Oh, surely you both know she's a fraud!" Hermione said, loudly enough that Lavender and Parvati turned to glare at her. "Well, she is. Glaring at me isn't going to change that!" Hermione snapped at them.

Harry looked at her approvingly just as the trap door opened and the class looked up expectantly to find out who the mystery shouter had been. No one was more surprised than Harry when Sirius stormed down the ladder, his gray eyes flashing fire. The assembled throng of students immediately flattened themselves against the walls to give him a wide berth. None of them had ever seen him looking so angry. For a moment after he left, the students were too nervous to move. Then Trelawney appeared in the trapdoor and told them in a slightly shaky voice to come up.

She was noticeably agitated and angry. She kept dropping things and huffing. She broke more teacups that day than Neville had managed to do in three months.

"Professor, are you all right?" Parvati asked timidly.

"All right?" Trelawney shrieked. "I most certainly am not all right! If... _that man_... thinks he can intimidate _me_, he's not another thing coming!"

"What did he say to you?" Lavender asked gently.

"Would you believe he had _the nerve_ to suggest that I have been purposely picking on Mr. Potter! I am the only person at this school who seems to care about that poor boy's safety, and everyone's jumping down my throat for it!"

"I'm right here!" Harry said loudly.

"Of course you are, dear," Trelawney said absently. "You will find, my dears, that there are certain _mediocre people_ in the world who are jealous of those of us who are truly gifted. Sometimes it's a burden to be as farsighted as I am. There are those who would rather stick their heads in the sand than face the truth of what their future holds."

Hermione gave a loud snort. Trelawney turned to her with a glare that would have done McGonagall proud. Hermione returned it for only a moment before her abnormal amount of respect for authority took over, and she suddenly became very interested in her teacup.

"I don't think I'd be so casual about making Sirius mad if I were her," Ron whispered. "I'd be scared to death to be on his bad side."

"I never thought he had a bad side worth mentioning," Harry whispered back.

"Anyone that easy-going has one hell of a bad side. That's what my dad's like. Takes a lot of pushing to get him there, but if you ever do manage to get him to lose his temper, good night! I only saw him lose it once, when Fred and George tried to get me to take the unbreakable vow. He went mental. Fred reckons his left buttock has never been the same since."

Harry stifled a laugh. "The only time I ever saw Sirius angry enough to shout was when I was little and ran away from home. He's not really the smacking type, though, so my left buttock survived to sit another day."

That afternoon in Astronomy Lavender and Parvati shot Sirius dirty looks throughout the entire class. If Sirius noticed, he never let on. Harry went up to him after class and thanked him for telling off Trelawney. He told Sirius everything Trelawney had said and the two shared a laugh over her outrage. "Is that what Brown and Patil were so upset about?" Sirius asked.

"Oh, you noticed, did you?" Harry asked, smiling.

"Yes. It was sort of a relief actually. Usually they're making moon eyes at me and drawing hearts all over their notes. The other day, Brown actually left a piece of parchment behind that she had scribbled all over. It said Mrs. Sirius Black, Lavender Black, Mr. and Mrs. Sirius Black. It was all over the page! I think a Mrs. and Dr. Black actually sneaked in there somewhere. Don't know where she got that from. Mental, that one."

"At least you know they're paying attention in your lessons," Harry said with a smile. "That's more than you can say for me."

"You better watch it, Pronglet, or I'll turn you into a goldenrod egret. I'm no one to be trifled with, you know. Just ask Trelawney."

"Are you telling me that if I make you angry I'll egret it?" Harry asked, laughing.

Sirius threw his head back and laughed loudly, then turned Harry toward the door and gave him a playful kick in the bum. "Get out of here, you nutter."

Harry wasn't sure if it was only coincidence or if Sirius's talk really had had an effect on the woman, but Trelawney scaled back her predictions for Harry's demise to once a week after that. Only a few death threats later, and he was spending his last night in the dormitory before he would be going home for Christmas.

Remus was having another episode and Harry had spent much of the afternoon visiting him in the hospital wing. After Harry had been there about half an hour, Sirius appeared, yawning and looking as though he had just woken up.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked.

"Yes, of course. I just didn't get much sleep last night is all. I was up very late grading papers."

"You know, you teachers always complain about how much grading you have to do, but you never seem to put two and two together and realize that you wouldn't have nearly as much to grade if you would stop assigning so much. I don't have any sympathy for you at all." Harry told him with a smile.

"I'll remember that the next time you're in trouble and begging me to help you," Sirius retorted, feigning offense.

"But that's just cold," Harry replied.

"Harry, how's Hagrid doing?" Remus asked suddenly without opening his eyes. His voice was weak and strained.

"He's awful," Harry reported. "I was thinking I might go see him next. He's really taking it hard about Buckbeak's trial. He's convinced he's going to lose. Hermione and Ron and I have been trying to help as much as we can, but it doesn't look good. There have been a few cases where someone baited a hippogriff and the hippogriff got off, but not many. And of course Malfoy's still walking around wearing bandages and pretending he's actually hurt."

"Poor Hagrid," Remus said, sounding sympathetic.

"Someone ought to do something," Sirius said, sounding annoyed.

"What can we do?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Sirius finally admitted after a moment's thought. "I just don't know."

When Harry left the hospital wing, he intended to go to Hagrid's hut, but he got distracted by Neville jumping miserably around the corridors, his legs stuck together. "It was Malfoy," Neville reported morosely as Harry freed him from the curse.

Harry spent most of the rest of the day playing exploding snap with Neville to cheer him up. It wasn't until nearly bedtime that he remembered his plans to visit Hagrid. He wavered back and forth only a few moments before deciding to go despite the lateness of the hour. Ron and Hermione insisted on going with him - Hermione because she thought she may have actually found some good news for him and Ron because he didn't want to be left out. Harry really regretted the loss of the cloak, but silently thanked Fred and George for the map as he and his friends made their way through the darkened corridors.

The map saved them from several close calls. Without it, Sirius would have surely caught them on the second floor, but they were able to duck into an empty classroom just in time. Then, they had to hide behind a suit of armor to keep from getting caught by Snape in the entry hall. Filch would have caught when he suddenly appeared by one of the greenhouses if the map hadn't alerted them to his presence.

"This map is bloody brilliant!" Ron said. "Fred and George never gave me anything so nice as this."

"I don't think they were particularly thrilled about parting with it," Harry reported, "but they didn't want me to miss out on Hogsmeade."

When the coast was clear, the trio made their way to Hagrid's hut. Hagrid was in a right state when they got there. He had just received an owl from a friend in the ministry telling him that Lucius Malfoy was attempting to bribe the members of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures and that Walden Macnair, the committee's executioner, could be heard all over the ministry saying that Buckbeak was already as good as dead.

"He just likes killin'!" Hagrid wailed to Harry and his friends after he told them the news.

"That's not fair!" Hermione protested. "He hasn't even had a trial yet and they've already decided to execute him."

"No one wants teh be on Lucius Malfoy's bad side," Hagrid reported.

"Maybe my dad can do something," Harry said hopefully. "He's got some pull at the ministry as well."

Hagrid sniffled, "Do yeh really think he'd help?"

"I can ask him," Harry said.

Hagrid began to cry loudly in response. "Yeh three have been workin' so hard! I don't know what I'd do without yeh!"

It took them some time to get Hagrid calmed, but eventually they did and then began making their way back to the castle. The moon was full and huge that night, giving the snow-covered grounds a glowing, almost ethereal appearance. As they had done when making their way to Hagrid's hut, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were careful to stay in the shadows of the forest so as not to be seen by anyone who happened to be looking out the castle window. They were nearly to the spot where they would have to leave the safety of the forest and make a dash for the door when a rustling in the forest caught their attention. All three turned toward it and saw a large, regal stag step out of the forest not twenty feet behind them.

"Oh, how beautiful," Hermione exclaimed in a breathless whisper.

The stag looked straight at them, turning its head. Harry couldn't take his eyes off it. He thought he had never seen anything so elegant in all his life. Without thinking, Harry took a step toward it.

"Harry, what are you doing, mate? We have to go," Ron said.

"I just want to see how close I can get," Harry said, taking another step closer.

"Harry, stop," Hermione said. "You could get hurt. Deer are supposed to be really dangerous if they decide to fight."

Harry ignored her and took another step. The stag snorted and pawed the ground, lowering its antlers. Harry stopped moving, ready to run at any moment, waiting to see what the stag would do. He couldn't have said why he felt so suddenly drawn to this stag, but there was something about it, something Harry couldn't quite place, that made him want to move closer. The stag lifted its head proudly and looked straight into Harry's eyes. Harry could swear he saw a gleam of intelligence in its face. There was also something else Harry couldn't quite place. Something terribly familiar. An ancient memory stirred in his mind, but the more he tried to capture it, the more it faded away, like an ebbing tide upon the sands of his mind.

Harry took another step. He was almost close enough to reach out and touch it now. He held his hand out toward it wondering if it would let him pet it. He was amazed it wasn't trying to run. Just then, there was another rustling and a large black dog emerged from the forest and stood next to the stag. Harry froze, his hand still in mid-air. It looked awfully solid to be a grim, but that didn't stop a trickle of fear from crossing his face. The dog lowered its head threateningly and growled at Harry. He dropped his hand and began to quickly back away. The dog took a step toward him, growling menacingly, then it let out a snarling bark before it gave chase.

Abandoning all fear of being seen, Harry turned on his heel and fled with his friends. He was so busy running he didn't notice that the dog stopped chasing him the moment he began to run. He also didn't notice the third animal that had stepped out of the forest - a large brown wolf.

After they were through the portrait hole and had caught their breath, Harry announced that he was going to see Sirius. He was sure he would not be able to sleep after such a fright and he wanted very much to discuss his fears that he really was seeing a grim with someone. When he looked at the map, however, he discovered that Sirius was not in his quarters. The three of them searched the map carefully, but Sirius did not appear to be on it at all. Harry decided he would go visit Remus in lieu of his godfather, but they quickly realized he was not on the map either.

"Where's he gone?" Harry asked curiously. "He was awfully sick this afternoon."

"You don't reckon he's been moved to St. Mungo's do you?" Ron asked.

"I'm sure he hasn't," Hermione said reassuringly when she saw the worried look on Harry's face.

"I'm going to call my dad," Harry told his friends, but no matter how loudly he shouted into his two-way mirror, his father didn't answer. That had never happened before, and Harry found it disconcerting. He really wanted to talk to someone, but he couldn't think how to tell about his encounter with the grim without also giving away that he and his friends had sneaked out of the castle, and Sirius was the only person he could be sure would not punish him for that. Finally, he decided to talk to Sirius first thing in the morning and went to bed. It was nearly morning when he fell into an uneasy sleep where he dreamed that he was riding on the back of a grim as it carried him faster and faster through an increasingly terrifying landscape.

* * *

_A/N: a special thanks are in order to curlybean, who came up with the idea to have Sirius confront Trelawney. The scene as I saw it in my head was hilarious, and I'm not entirely sure I captured it quite right, so I may go back and tweak it a bit. Nonetheless, hope you enjoyed!_


	20. Homeward Bound

_A/N: A bit of angst for you today. I don't think it's quite enough to need a tissue alert, but be ready if you're sensitive. I've tried to weave some humor in there, too, so hopefully it's not too bad._

_On a more personal note, I'm kind of excited because this is the first time I've made it to a twentieth chapter. For some reason, I keep getting wordier and wordier the more I write. What used to take lots of time and energy now just flows out of me as I get to know the characters better. It's great fun. Thanks everyone for sticking with me, and keep those reviews coming. They really inspire me!_

* * *

The next morning dawned far too early for Harry after his restless night. A quick glance at his map upon waking told him that Sirius was in his bedroom and Remus was in the hospital wing. His father still did not answer his calls in the mirror. No matter, Harry told himself. At noon, he would be boarding the Hogwarts Express and would be seeing his father in London. Harry tried not to think about the fact that his father had never not answered his call before and tried not to imagine that something might have happened to him.

He knew all too well that parents are not as invincible as most children believe them to be. When he was younger, he would go into a near panic every time James came home late and forgot to send his patronus along to let Harry know. Once, when he was eight, James got so wrapped up in a chase that he forgot to come pick Harry up at school. By the time James finally came, two hours late, Harry was in a blind panic, sure that death eaters had somehow killed him. The head teacher was nearly beside himself trying to calm the inconsolable boy. He also had a time trying to figure out what, "The death eaters must have got him," meant and why Harry kept begging him to "please go get serious". When James arrived, his own eyes were wide with worry, and Harry ran to him, sobbing . "I thought you were dead," Harry howled as James lifted him up and Harry wrapped his arms around his father's neck so tightly he could barely breathe. James had a time explaining to the head where he had been and why there was no telephone number on file for emergencies.

Harry tried now not to slip into the old panic, telling himself that his father was probably just busy. Maybe he'd even caught Pettigrew, Harry told himself, and was busy taking him back to Azkaban.

In truth, James had come home filthy that morning after a night of running around the forest and decided to take a shower before catching a few hours' rest. Harry's mirror usually resided in the pocket of his robes, which he had uncharacteristically left on the floor of the bathroom. The house elf had taken them to be cleaned, carefully placing the contents of the pockets, including the mirror, on the bathroom counter. She would bring them to Master James once he was awake; she didn't want to disturb him while he was sleeping. Harry's increasingly concerned calls now echoed around the white-and-blue tiled room and James, sleeping soundly three rooms away, did not hear his son's distress.

At breakfast, Harry was too tired to eat much. He kept nodding off and then jerking awake just before his head landed in his plate. He looked up at the staff table for Sirius and noticed that his godfather wasn't there. The tendrils of worry creeping through him drew tighter and tighter around his heart.

"Harry, couldn't you sleep last night?" Hermione asked sympathetically, pulling Harry's plate away just in time to keep Harry from planting his face in it.

"No, and then when I finally did sleep, I had nightmares," Harry reported.

"It's true," Ron told her. "I kept hearing him whimpering."

"Then why didn't you wake me?" Harry asked, annoyed.

"You're mean when you get woken up," Ron told him. "It's not worth it. Remember what you said to me last time I had to wake you up?"

Harry shook his head. He did not remember it.

"You told me, and I quote," Ron raised his voice to imitate Harry's whinge," 'Leave me alone. I don't even like you.' Then you rolled over and farted at me. It reeked, too. It was worse than Fred and George, and they can clear a room."

All three of them burst into loud laughter. "I did not do that," Harry insisted.

"You did. I swear on my collection of chocolate frog cards," Ron said, holding one hand over his heart and placing the other in the air.

"Well, I suppose I can't argue with that," Harry finally said, reclaiming his plate and taking a few more bites of his toast. The laughter had worked to calm him a little.

After breakfast, he went to Sirius's quarters and knocked on the door. When Sirius didn't answer, he knocked louder. He heard Sirius coming before the door ever opened. He was stumbling around. Harry heard him bump into something and shout, "Merlin's toupée!" When he opened the door, his eyes still had sleep in them and his hair was unbrushed. He had clearly just rolled out of bed. As soon as he saw it was Harry, his countenance softened. "Oh, hello Harry, come in."

"Sorry I woke you," Harry said sheepishly. It had not crossed his mind that Sirius might still be sleeping.

"Don't worry about it," Sirius said with a yawn. "Come on in. It was high time I was getting up anyway. Oh, bother, I've missed breakfast."

"Have you heard from my dad?" Harry asked quickly.

"I spoke with him this morning. Why?"

"I can't get in touch with him. He hasn't been answering my calls. I was worried," Harry finished lamely.

"He's fine, Pronglet. He'll be upset to know you were worried about him. We were out late last night. I'd be willing to bet he's sound asleep."

"Where were you last night?" Harry asked as relief spread through his mind.

"We went pub crawling. I got dates with five different women. Why?"

"I was looking for you."

"Looking for me? Well, that was awfully nice of you! It always makes me feel good to know someone loves me enough to look for me when I'm missing. Why were you looking for me, then?"

Harry reported his encounter with the dog from the evening before and admitted to Sirius that he feared it might have been a grim. Sirius's expression was unreadable as Harry spoke.

"First of all, Pronglet, I don't believe there's any such thing as a grim. And even if there were, I very much doubt one would come all the way here just to nip at the heels of a third-year."

"But Trelawney keeps seeing them in my teacup," Harry reported.

"Harry, by now you know that Trelawney is a less-than-credible source. Why are you still letting her phony predictions get to you?"

"I usually don't, but I couldn't help it last night. That dog was scary."

"It was just a dog, Harry. There are some wild ones in the forest. They're nothing to be frightened of. It was probably more scared of you than you were of it."

"It didn't seem scared of me," Harry muttered. "It seemed like it wanted to taste me."

Sirius gave a small laugh. "So, I'm almost afraid to hear the answer, but I have to ask. What were you and your friends doing outside the castle after curfew?"

Harry took a deep breath, hoping the other shoe wasn't about to drop. "We were visiting Hagrid. We were hoping we could cheer him up."

Sirius looked at him thoughtfully. "That was very kind of you," he said. "But maybe you should stick to doing it during the daytime from now on."

Harry nodded. After last night, he was inclined to agree. "I will," Harry said.

"Good. It's really not safe for you to go wandering around just now, and I wouldn't be above revoking your grounds privileges if that's what it took to get you to stop."

Harry jerked his head up to meet Sirius's eyes. There was no hint of their usual twinkle. He was not joking.

"Are you angry?" Harry asked. It had truly never occurred to him to think that Sirius might be miffed over him being out of bounds.

"No," Sirius assured his godson quickly. "I probably would have done the same thing when I was your age, but when I was your age there weren't dementors running around the grounds and Peter Pettigrew wasn't out to get me."

"Dad says they don't know for sure he's out to get me," Harry said quickly.

Sirius spoke sternly. "They don't, but he might be, so it's not a bad idea for you to behave accordingly."

Harry dropped his gaze and nodded gravely. Then a thought occurred to him and he jerked his head back up. "You're not going to tell my dad, are you?"

Sirius regarded Harry carefully. Harry did not know was that his dad already knew and was planning to take it up with him as soon as he got home. Sirius and James had discussed it early that morning after they got Remus settled back in the hospital wing. James was a little annoyed that Sirius had growled at his son, but Sirius insisted it was fair. "I bet he won't sneak out of the castle after dark again for awhile," he said.

"You're going to make him afraid of dogs," James scolded.

"I don't think one run-in is going to make him scared of dogs. It's not like he's a little boy. Besides, he's always had a fondness for dogs."

"Remember how he used to ride on your back?" James asked, smiling at the memory.

Sirius smiled as well. "I remember the first time he saw me transform. He couldn't figure out what had happened. He put his finger in my face and told me to give his Sirius back."

"I'd forgotten he used to call you 'my Sirius'," James said, smiling.

"Sometimes I miss the little boy he was," Sirius admitted.

"I know what you mean," James said. "I'm proud of who he's become, and I wouldn't trade him, but sometimes I wish he could just stay young and innocent."

"He was never innocent, mate. I used to catch him climbing up on the counters to steal biscuits when he was two. Once I caught him and asked him what he was doing, and he told me he was getting biscuits for you." Sirius gave a small chuckle. "You weren't even in the house! So I pulled him down and made him sit in the corner. He howled like something awful was happening to him. Then he pouted, and I felt so bad I gave him the biscuits anyway. He had me completely wrapped around his little finger. He still does, really."

"Me, too," James admitted.

"Now, there's a shock," Sirius teased.

"I'm not too obvious about it, am I?" James asked.

"You're better than some," Sirius said. "Did I tell you I had a howler from Lucius Malfoy? He's angry I won't give Draco special treatment because of his 'injury'. As if I didn't know the little berk is faking."

James rolled his eyes. "He's a real piece of work, that one." Then James let out a sigh. "I suppose I'll have to punish Harry for being out of the castle at night."

"Why?" Sirius asked. "You can always just pretend you don't know. That's what I intend to do."

"But you're not his father," James said.

"No, but I bet you anything he comes running up here to tell me all about it first thing after breakfast. Actually, it won't surprise me to find out he was up here looking for me last night. He'll probably want to know where I was."

"What are you going to tell him?"

"I'll tell him I went pub crawling with you."

"Do you think he's old enough for us to tell him?" James asked.

"Yes. I've thought he was old enough for quite some time now. Although if we do, we run the risk of letting Remus's furry little problem out of the bag, and I think we should let him tell that in his own time."

"I briefly considered transforming in front of him last night just to see the look on his face." James said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"You should have. That would have been worth seeing."

James shrugged. "I always assumed when the time was right to tell him, I'd know it."

Now Sirius smiled at Harry. "No, of course I won't tell him," he said. "Everyone deserves to have their secrets."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks," he said quickly. He loved that he could always trust Sirius not to tell. "I don't think he'd be too pleased if he knew."

"No, I don't think he'd be too pleased at all," Sirius said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He took a quick sip of coffee to hide it.

The Hogwarts Express left from Hogsmeade Station at precisely twelve noon. Harry always enjoyed the last few hours with his friends on the train. He shared a compartment with Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny, and the five of them passed a lovely afternoon as they traveled closer and closer to London.

James was waiting for Harry when he arrived at King's Cross Station. He greeted his son warmly and helped him with his trunk. He couldn't help but notice that the top of Harry's head came nearly to his shoulder. "Look at you!" James exclaimed. "When did you get so tall? I'm going to have to put a brick on your head to slow you down or you'll be taller than me before the end of the week!"

Harry smiled hopefully. He thought it would be great fun to be taller than his father.

It wasn't until they were home and Harry's trunk had been levitated up to his room that James sat next to Harry on his bed and said, "A little bird told me you were out of the castle last night."

Harry turned his head quickly to look at his father, who was staring at him intently.

"Who told you that?" Harry asked.

"A good auror never reveals his informants," James replied casually.

"Was it Sirius?" Harry asked.

"No," James quickly assured him.

"Hagrid?"

"Wrong again," James said.

"No one else knows I was out except Ron and Hermione, and I know they didn't tell."

"Someone else saw you, and don't even bother asking me who. I won't tell you."

Harry sighed. Why did these things always happen to him?

"What, may I ask, was so important that you felt the need to go traipsing about the grounds in the middle of the night?"

"I wanted to see Hagrid," Harry explained. "He's been awfully upset about Buckbeak."

"Why didn't you go see Hagrid during the day?"

"I was planning to, but then I ran into Neville and he was upset, so I played games with him all evening to cheer him up. Then, next thing I knew it was nearly time for bed, and I still hadn't made it to Hagrid's."

"Why didn't you wait and go this morning?"

"I was afraid there wouldn't be time," Harry said, a slight whinge invading his explanations. "The last morning before the hols always goes by really fast. Besides, Hermione really wanted to go because she found something that might help his case. And, it turned out to be a good thing because we got there just after he got an owl telling him that the executioner has been bragging that Buckbeak's as good as dead. Is that true?"

"I don't know. I don't really associate with him when he's not being investigated."

"Hagrid says Malfoy's dad is pulling all sorts of strings to get Buckbeak found guilty. Can't you do anything to help?"

"I don't know," James admitted. "I could try. I'm not too hopeful, though. The ministry doesn't look kindly on attacks against children, even if the child was asking for it. Now stop trying to change the subject."

"I'm sorry for sneaking out. Only I really wanted to see Hagrid," Harry said pleadingly.

"And how do you think it would make Hagrid feel if you got attacked by another dementor on the way to his place and he had to live with the knowledge that you were only out there because you wanted to see him?" James asked sternly.

"I never thought about it like that," Harry said softly, hanging his head.

James sighed. "What am I going to do with you, Harry?"

"Love me?" Harry suggested, looking up guiltily at his father and hoping it would cause James to take pity on him.

"Of course I love you," James assured him, putting an arm around his shoulder. "I just wish you weren't so impetuous."

"What does 'impetuous' mean?" Harry asked, lifting his head.

"It means you don't think about things before you do them. You're reckless, and I'm about out of patience with it. Didn't you learn anything from what happened in Hogsmeade?"

"But I never left the grounds!" Harry protested. "It's not the same."

"It's exactly the same," James said, taking hold of Harry's chin and forcing the boy to meet his eyes. "You were somewhere you had no business being for no good reason except that you wanted to be there and didn't think about the consequences. Honestly, Harry. You've got to stop this. I'm starting to think maybe I let you off the hook too easily in Hogsmeade."

"I'm really sorry, Dad," Harry said pitifully. "I swear I won't sneak out again." Harry hung his head and looked up at James with sadness in his eyes. It was such a perfect, and accidental, imitation of the look Sirius once used to turn their professors into putty in his hands that James had to fight the urge to smile.

"You're grounded, Harry. No flying. I'm locking away your Firebolt. You can have it back at the end of the holidays."

"What? No! That's not fair!" Harry whinged. "What am I supposed to do if I can't fly?"

"I would suggest you find a few indoor activities. Might be good for you. If you were better at entertaining yourself inside, maybe you wouldn't sneak out of the castle so much."

Harry huffed. "I really won't sneak out of the castle again," he said softly. "I almost got attacked by a dog last night. I thought it was a grim at first, but Sirius says it couldn't have been. I don't know, though. I saw a grim the night before I fell off my broom."

James's face showed little as he answered. "How do you know the grim you thought you saw wasn't just a dog? There are wild dogs in the forest, you know."

"I suppose I don't. But I thought it was a grim. And Trelawney keeps seeing grims in my cup. And she predicted I would fall, and then I did. And when the dementors come near me, I hear..." Harry's voice cracked and he fell silent. He didn't want to cry in front of his father; he was sure thirteen-year-olds weren't supposed to cry in front of their fathers. He crossed his arms over his chest and hugged himself tightly. James saw his trembling lower lip and quickly put a comforting arm around him. Harry scooted closer to him and dropped his head onto his father's shoulder.

"I know what you hear," James said softly. "Remus told me. I'm so sorry you have to hear that. No one should ever have to hear something like that."

The two sat in silence for a moment. "Your mother loved you, you know. I don't think there was ever a mother who loved her son as much as she loved you. I used to have to threaten to hex her just to get her to give me a turn holding you."

"Dumbledore says that's why I didn't die. Because she loved me so much, and she sacrificed herself for me. He says her protection is still inside me."

James gave a sad smile that Harry couldn't see. "That would be like her. Protecting you from the grave."

"Dad, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," James answered, giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze.

"If Pettigrew was your friend, did he know me?"

"Yes. He liked you, or so we thought, although you never warmed to him. He tried awfully hard, but you screamed like a banshee whenever he held you. It should have been our first clue, really. He was the only person you didn't like. You'd usually go to anyone, even your Aunt Petunia. You were a very happy baby before that night."

"Was I not a happy baby after that night?"

"After a couple of days you started crying and calling for Lily, and there wasn't anything we could do to get you to stop. I thought my heart was going to break listening to it. More often than not, I'd be sitting there rocking you crying right along with you. It made sense, really, that you would be mourning same as the rest of us, but it was harder, somehow, when it was you. Babies ought not have to go through something like that. I remember feeling so angry at the unfairness of it all that I had to fight the urge to punch holes in the walls. We tried everything we could think of to cheer you up, but nothing worked. I rocked you for hours on end, and Sirius started singing to you. We fed you ice cream. We acted like idiots to try to get you to laugh. But you just cried and cried.

"I think Sirius started to take it personally after awhile. Usually he could cheer right up whenever you were upset. He was the first person you ever smiled at. I was jealous, I have to admit. He was also the first person who ever made you laugh. He was playing peek-a-boo with you and you just let out this sweet little giggle. I thought it was the most precious sound I'd ever heard."

"You also started having these awful nightmares. You used to wake up screaming in the middle of the night. For awhile, I moved your crib into my room so I wouldn't be so far away. You didn't want anyone but me after you'd had a nightmare. Then, when I moved you back into your room, you'd gotten spoiled. The first night you yelled your head off. The second night, you taught yourself to climb out of the crib. I woke up the next morning and you'd climbed in bed with me. You were four or five before you ever spent a whole night in your own room.

"You did cheer up eventually, though. After a few days, you stopped calling for her. I guess you figured out she wasn't coming and gave up. A day or two after that, you stopped crying as much. You started smiling and laughing again. I used to love to hear you laugh. Everything hurt a lot less when you were laughing."

Harry and James sat in silence. "I wish I could have known her," Harry said softly.

"I wish you could have, too," James agreed.

"Tell me something about her," Harry asked.

James smiled. "A few weeks after we got engaged, Sirius and I took her camping. She had never been. Her family never really had money to go on holiday, so she hadn't done much traveling at all, and we decided we wanted to take her on all those obligatory childhood adventures. The second day, we went fishing. She was so tender-hearted she couldn't stand to kill the poor fishies, so she kept throwing back all the ones she caught. Fish after fish after fish. Sirius and I caught a fair few, and we were planning to cook them up, but she kept dumping them out when we weren't looking. We ended up having to go to a restaurant that night because she had freed our supper. Speaking of supper, I better get cooking if we're going to have any. Would you care to help me?"

"Sure," Harry said, rising.

"While you're up, get your Firebolt," James ordered.

Harry curled his lip into a look of frustration that almost made James laugh. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, you most certainly do. And you don't have to look so devastated. It's not the end of the world."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one losing your broomstick."

James smiled. "I lost my broomstick plenty of times. It was one of my father's favorite punishments."

"When I have children, I'm never going to take their broomsticks," Harry pouted

"I wouldn't bet on that if I were you. I used to say the same thing."

"Then why are doing it?" Harry asked, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to imitate the stern look his father sometimes gave him.

"Because I know how miserable it is," James told him. "That's sort of the idea behind punishment, you know. Besides, I'm not the one to blame here. If you had stayed in the castle like you were supposed to this wouldn't be happening."

Harry scowled at his father, but James was unmoved. "I'm waiting," he said after a moment.

Harry huffed. "Fine!" He got the broomstick out of his trunk and gave it to his father, who immediately locked it away.

"If I find out you've gone sneaking out of the castle again, I really will pull you off the quidditch team. Is that clear?" James asked sternly.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered forlornly.

James fought the urge to smile. Harry only called him "sir" when he was in trouble. He wasn't sure why Harry always did this, but he recalled doing the exact same thing when he was young. He couldn't have said why he used to do it either.

"You know," James said lightly, changing the subject, "I don't much feel like cooking. Let's go out for supper. What are you in the mood for?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Fish."

James laughed. "All right. Seafood it is!"

All throughout their meal, James tried to find the right moment to tell Harry that he had finally decided to ask Bronwyn out, but he could never seem to work it in to their conversation. Like the news of his being an animagus, he assumed he would tell Harry when the time was right, and hoped he would know when that was.

* * *

_My apologies to those of you who are not Bronwyn fans. The jury's in. She gets a date. I solemnly swear to keep her mostly in the background, but I've got a few scenes in mind I want her around for. Please don't flame me._


	21. Graveyards and Goodbyes

_A/N Hope you're in the mood for more angst today. I'll be toning it down next chapter._

* * *

That night, James dreamed of Lily. In his dream, he was standing in front of the house in Godric's Hollow. The house was whole, exactly as it had been when he left it that afternoon so many years ago. As he walked through the familiar rooms, he began to call for Lily. "I'm in the garden," he heard her voice say through the open windows. He ran out to the back yard to see her. She was picking tomatoes, her red hair shining so in the sunlight that it looked as though her head was on fire. She looked just as he remembered her, forever frozen at twenty-one.

"Come give me a hand," she said, turning to smile at James. James went, not sure what to say. He began picking the ripe tomatoes and piling them into the bowl Lily had given him. They walked together in silence for a time, side by side, tending the tomatoes as they had done so many times before when they lived in this place. "So, tell me about her," Lily said when they reached the end of the row.

"She's not you," James said softly after a pause.

Lily laughed. James had always loved her laugh. "No, I'm the only me there is." She said gently.

James felt tears well up in his eyes. "Oh, Lils, I miss you so much it hurts."

Lily reached out and caressed his cheek. "I'm not gone," she said softly. "I still live with you." She moved her hand to James's heart. "Here," she whispered.

James nodded, his tears flowing freely, and buried his head in her shoulder and breathed in her scent. She hugged him and whispered words of comfort in his ear. When he had finished sobbing, he lifted his head and looked in her eyes. She stood on her tiptoes and lightly brushed her lips to his.

"I don't like to see you so sad," she said softly.

"I can't help it," James said, his voice thick with tears. "I love you. I always have, and I always will."

"I love you, too," she said, a sad smile on her perfect face. She continued to caress his face, gently wiping all his tears away. Finally, when he had calmed, she put a finger on his forehead. "This wrinkle is new," she said with a smile.

James laughed. "Yes, I've gotten old. And you should see Harry. He's so big! You wouldn't believe it. He's going to be taller than I am if he keeps growing at this rate."

"I've seen him," Lily said. "I watch him sometimes. Tell him I'm proud of him. And, for the record, thirty-three is not old. You're still a young man. You've got lots of happiness ahead of you."

James nodded, not sure what to say.

"I still want you to tell me about her," Lily said with a smile.

"I feel happy when I'm with her. I feel warm inside, like I used to feel with you. But then I feel guilty because I shouldn't be considering anyone else. You are the love of my life."

"Love is a funny thing," Lily informed him. "The more of it you give away, the more of it you have to give away. You can love us both, and you'll still have plenty to spare."

"Are you telling me you want me to go out with her?" James asked.

"I'm telling you I want you to be happy. That's all I ever wanted for you. You are the most wonderful person I've ever known. If anyone deserves happiness, you do."

"Harry won't like it."

"Harry will love her because you love her. That's the kind of person he is."

James smiled. "Yes, he is quite amazing. Sometimes I can't figure out how it happened. It certainly wasn't my doing. I've bumbled through raising him like a niffler in a jewelry shop."

"You're better than you give yourself credit for. A mother knows these things," Lily said sagely, pulling James into an embrace. James buried his face in her hair. It still smelled the way he remembered it.

"I don't ever want to leave," James said, feeling his tears begin to fall afresh.

"We'll be together again," Lily said, turning her face up to his. "You shouldn't rush. Life is short, and death is forever. You know, carpe diem and all that."

"Carpe diem," James whispered, then, louder, "Tell me I have your blessing."

"You have every blessing I could bestow upon you. My only hope for you is that she makes you happy. Otherwise, I might come back and haunt her."

James laughed. "Poor woman. She might not know what she's getting into."

Lily said nothing and hugged James tightly.

"Tell me one more thing," James said softly. "Is this a dream or is it real?"

"It's a dream," Lily told him, "but that doesn't mean it isn't real."

When James awoke, he sat alone in his bed and sobbed. After twelve years, he finally let Lily go.

* * *

The next morning, when Harry awoke, James was sitting in his room. "Good morning," Harry said sleepily.

"Good morning," James said with a sad smile.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked.

"Yes, fine. I came in this morning to check on you and I never could make myself leave. You were talking in your sleep. It was quite humorous."

"What did I say?" Harry asked, blushing slightly.

"At one point, you sat straight up and looked me square in the face and asked me if I was a duck."

"You're making that up," Harry said, laughing.

"No, I'm not. I swear on my honor as a marauder. What were you dreaming about, anyway?"

"I don't remember," Harry said, "but it was a good dream."

"I had some good dreams last night as well," James informed him. "And today, I was thinking of going to Godric's Hollow. I think you're old enough to see the house."

"All right," Harry said. "Just let me get ready."

"Dress like a muggle. I'll have breakfast waiting for you downstairs." James said, standing up and giving Harry a kiss on the forehead before he left the room.

Harry showered and dressed quickly, yanking a comb through his hair as though it would do it any good, and scrambled down the stairs. He ate the bacon, eggs, and toast his father had made them hungrily and then the two of them set off somberly for Godric's Hollow.

James had not seen the house since that night so many years ago. He gasped aloud when he saw the gaping hole in the room that had been Harry's nursery.

"That was your room," James said, pointing to it. "Your mother wanted to paint it pink because she was sure you were going to be a girl. I managed to talk her into yellow, just in case."

"Was she disappointed that I was a boy?" Harry asked.

"Oh, no, she was thrilled. All she wanted was for you to be healthy, and you were. She adored you completely. You could have been born with a third eye, and she would have loved you. We used to argue over who would get to rock you to sleep. We finally had to make out a schedule so we wouldn't hex each other over it. I think she took it personally when 'mummy' wasn't your first word."

"What was it?" Harry asked. "Was it 'Dad'?"

"No, you didn't call me 'Dad'. You called me James," James said with a large smile.

"I did?"

"Yes, Lily never could get used to referring to me as 'Dad' in your presence, so you called me James. Then, when we moved in with Sirius, he kept referring to me as 'your dad' so you started calling me 'Yoda'. When you were about eighteen months old, I started insisting on 'Dad' and you got the hang of it pretty quickly. You always were a smart kid. Your first word was 'Sirius', by the way. And you first sentence was 'Stop it, Sirius!' I always suspected you'd learned to talk just so you could finally tell him off." James said with a laugh.

James pointed into the living room window. "You took your first steps right there," James told him. "You were only about ten months old and Remus came by. You were already pulling up on things and walking around holding onto the furniture. Then Remus did a charm to amuse you that created glowing butterflies. You were so taken with them that you forgot yourself for a moment and took three whole steps trying to catch them. Then you fell and slammed into the coffee table.

"You started screaming your head off. Your mouth had taken the brunt of the blow. It had blood pouring out of it. I thought I was going to sick up, and Lily wasn't much better, but Remus was cool as ice mice. He just picked you up and took you into the kitchen and sat you in the sink. He started singing to you and wiping your face, and you calmed down pretty quickly. Turned out you weren't hurt at all. You'd just cut six teeth all at once; that was what all the blood was about. We were a little worried you'd be afraid to try again after such a disastrous beginning, but it wasn't long before you were toddling all over the place. Then you started running, and you were a fast little bugger. I could barely keep up with you. You used to love to get out of the bathtub and run around naked. Lily took pictures of it. She said we'd need something to blackmail you with when you got to be a teenager."

Harry laughed. "You're not really going to blackmail me, are you?"

"That depends on you. Are you going to need blackmailing?"

"I hadn't planned on it," Harry said.

"Come with me," James said, and he led Harry around to the back of the house. Lily's garden was wild and overgrown, but some of the things she had planted were still there, flourishing among the weeds. "Your mother loved to garden," James told Harry as they looked around. "The town she grew up in was really dismal. It was an old mill town with a river running through it that was so dirty you could smell it whenever you went outside. She started helping her mother garden when she was little. Her mum's name was Rose, and she was a very generous woman. She said she felt the people in that town always needed more beauty in their lives, and there was nothing better to bring it than flowers. Lily agreed with her and used to spend hours and hours helping her in the garden

"When we moved here, one of the first things she did was start this garden with cuttings from her mum's garden. She used to grow all sorts of things back here. She really had a green thumb, too. Everything grew for her. We always had fresh flowers on the table in the spring and summer, and fresh vegetables," James looked around and saw a flash of golden yellow. There, nearly buried in brambles, was a bed of winter jasmine in full bloom. James went to it and picked a handful. "These were some of her flowers," James said.

James pointed to a few more windows and told Harry more stories about their time in the house. Harry listened to the stories with the attentiveness of a starving man at a feast. He craved more and more of them. Eventually they walked back to the front of the house and stood in silence, James with his arm around Harry's shoulder.

Whereas the back of the house had been untouched, the front was covered in graffiti from well-wishers. James and Harry read it all, overwhelmed by what they had come to mean to so many. Then, James began to speak in a soft voice.

"It started out like any other day. I always thought that was odd. It seems like a day like that shouldn't have felt normal. I should have known when I woke up; had a sense of foreboding or sadness, or anything, really. Your mother had made plans for me to spend the evening with Sirius, and I was eager to go, although I pretended I wasn't. It was a lovely day, sunny and unseasonably warm. Usually, on those days, we'd go to the park, but of course we couldn't when we were in hiding, and I was feeling bitter about it. I was so selfish. All I could think about was myself and how much I hated being locked up. We did go outside for a bit with your broom, and you flew back and forth between us. I remember telling your mother that you were going to be a famous someday. Seems ironic, now, doesn't it?

"At first, when I got back and found the house like this, I thought you'd both been killed. It was... terrible. I thought I was going to just shatter from the inside out. Part of me couldn't believe I was even still alive. I didn't think it was possible to live through that much pain. Then when I realized you were still alive, I was beside myself. I felt like I'd been given a second chance, somehow. That was when I decided to become an auror. The next day it poured rain all day, like the very heavens were mourning with me. We were at Sirius's by then, but he was gone when I woke up. I didn't know what else to do, so I packed you up and went to the ministry to see about auror training. As soon as I got there, the whole place went wild. Somehow the rumor mill had it that we were both dead.

"That was how I found out Sirius had been taken to Azkaban. It didn't take long for me to convince the minister to sign an emergency order to get him released. I can't imagine what would have happened to him if I had been here. For the longest time, I told myself that if I been here I could have protected you and Lily, but the truth is that I probably would have been killed as well. And then Sirius would probably still be an Azkaban."

Harry shuddered, thinking of his jovial godfather locked away with the dementors for a crime he hadn't committed.

"And I don't have any idea what would have happened to you. You probably would have ended up with the Dursleys. They would have been your closest relatives."

"What about Remus?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't I have gone to live with him?"

James shook his head. "He was too sick to care for a child. They never would have let him keep you."

Harry wrapped his arms around himself. "I can't imagine living with the Dursleys. I would have had to spend my whole life in Dudley's second bedroom."

James gaze his shoulder a squeeze. "I'm sure they would have given you the guest room if you'd been a permanent resident."

Harry stared at the graffiti, his stomach knitting itself into knots as he thought of the life he would have had, save for a small, seemingly insignificant decision on the part of his father.

Harry and James continued their silent vigil, the only sound their own rhythmic breathing and the far-away clang of church bells signaling it was noon.

"Let's go get some lunch," James said, and Harry followed him through the streets. They ducked into a little pub. "This used to be your mother's and my favorite place. They had wonderful bangers and mash. I hope they still do."

It turned out they did. James and Harry both ordered that, and they drank coca-cola, something Harry had had only a handful of times when one of his muggle friends' parents would give it to him. He had always liked the slightly ticklish feeling the fizz gave him. They were nearly finished with their lunch when James told Harry he had something important to tell him.

"Back in September, I met a woman at work. Her name is Bronwyn, and we've become friends. I've decided I'm going to ask her out, and I want you to be the first to know about it."

Harry took a too-large gulp of his cola and choked on it on the way down. When he had finished coughing and spluttering, he asked his dad when he was planning to go.

"I've been invited to her New Years' Eve Party, and I'm going to ask her then. I don't know that she'll say yes, mind you, but I think she will. You'd really like her, Harry. She's smart, and funny. The only people who make me laugh more than she does are you and Sirius."

"When do I get to meet her?" Harry asked, stalling for time. He wasn't sure he liked this idea, but he felt like he ought to be big about it. It had been twelve years since his mother died, after all.

"I haven't thought that far ahead, to be honest. I haven't even asked her out yet."

"Maybe I should come on your date... you know... in case you need a chaperone."

James laughed and reached across the table to ruffle Harry's hair. "I very seriously doubt we'll need a chaperone. I'll tell you what. If we make it to a sixth date, you can meet her then."

"I hope you have fun," Harry said, forcing himself to smile at James. James relaxed visibly. He had been worried that Harry's reaction might be less than accepting. He could tell that Harry was unsure, but he was thankful that at least there hadn't been any theatrics.

"Come on, let's get out of here," James said, standing.

Together, the two of them walked to the graveyard to visit Lily's grave. The cleared the snow off the top of her headstone, and James laid down the jasmine he had picked in her garden. Harry thought it a fitting tribute to her memory.

"Lily loved the snow," James said. "She didn't like to get out and play in it, like I do, but she liked to stand at the window and watch it fall. She said it was the most beautiful thing in the world apart from my smile. She loved rain, too. She said it made her feel warm and cozy to watch the rain fall. She used to love to curl up with tea and a book and a quilt and listen to it rain while she read. It rained on us the day I proposed. It was one of those awful, sticky hot days, and we were in London, sitting on a bench in Hyde Park. I was so nervous I thought I was going to sick up. She was beautiful; she was wearing purple, I remember. She looked positively radiant in purple. It made her her hair stand out. She didn't know what was happening, so she kept trying to make small talk, but I was so nervous I couldn't.

"Finally, she just said, 'All right. Out with it. What's the matter with you today?' And I decided it was now or never, so I dropped to one knee and showed her the ring. She was so excited she said yes and jumped into my arms before I even had a chance to say any of what I'd prepared. Then people all around started clapping when we kissed. We took a walk by the Serpentine and I managed to actually get out the speech I had planned. We were standing by the river kissing when it started to pour rain. There hadn't been a cloud in the sky not five minutes before. Then it was gone almost as soon as it came. The whole downpour didn't last more than ten minutes, I don't think. Then we looked up and there was a double rainbow in the sky. She said it was a good omen."

Harry and James stood in silence for a moment before James said, "How would you like to go pick out a Christmas tree?"

Harry smiled. "I'd like that." As they walked away from the grave, Harry realized it was the first time they had ever visited this graveyard that James had not shed a single tear. He wasn't sure what to make of that.


	22. Christmas Confessions

Christmas morning brought a lightly falling snow. Harry awoke when Sirius arrived, yelling at the top of his voice. Harry took his time showering and dressing, so that Sirius was in a right state by the time he made his way down the stairs.

"I never could understand why you don't get more excited about presents. It's not natural," Sirius told Harry as Harry walked over to the Christmas tree.

Harry shrugged and plopped down in front of the tree to inspect his haul. "It's not like they're going to disappear just because I've been allowed to sleep until a decent hour. No present from the Dursleys this year."

"Yes, I'd noticed that," James said, coming in from the kitchen and handing Sirius a cup of coffee. "If it would make you feel better, I could wrap up a dirty sock for you and sign Petunia's name to it."

"No, that's all right, but I will miss playing the guessing game, and watching whatever they sent me burn. Did you send something to Dudley?"

"Of course. It's not his fault his parents are gits."

"Maybe I should send them something," Sirius said darkly. "I know a few good curses."

"Have I mentioned I'm an auror?" James asked, looking at him questioningly.

"I'm not afraid of you," Sirius replied quickly.

"You should be," James retorted. "I've been told I'm dead frightening when I'm on the job."

Harry snorted loudly.

"You stay out of this," James snapped at Harry, his hazel eyes twinkling with amusement.

Harry was saved trying to think of a response by the sudden flaring of the fire as Remus stepped out, brushing soot off his robes. "Hello," he said cheerfully. "Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas," the others repeated.

"Presents!" Sirius said enthusiastically, and they all dug in.

Harry grabbed Sirius's present first. There were two boxes, a small one and a large one.

"Open the smaller one first," Sirius instructed him.

Harry opened it to find a pair of pink sunglasses with heart-shaped rims.

"I couldn't resist, Pronglet," Sirius told him when Harry had stopped laughing. "When your dad told me the Dursleys hadn't sent you anything, I thought you could use the glasses."

"I think I'll wear them in class," Harry said, putting them on.

"You should. See how well Snape likes them," Sirius replied approvingly. "Open the second one."

Harry opened he second part of Sirius's gift to find a set of quidditch balls.

"So you can practice seeking in the off season," Sirius explained. "I thought maybe we could go out and play later if this snow ever lets up."

"I can't," Harry said softly. "I'm grounded."

"Oh," Sirius said. "Later then."

Harry sneaked a glance at James. "I suppose I can make an exception just for today," James said. "It is Christmas, after all."

Harry's face broke into a large smile. James thought he would have stared down a manticore just to see that smile. Harry rose quickly and hugged his father. James returned the embrace, glad that Harry was still capable of getting so excited he forgot he was too old to hug his father. If he was anything like James, he would get over his aversion to parental hugs around the time he turned nineteen.

As the morning wore on, the snow picked up, falling so thickly that Harry could barely see the street. He stood in the living room and gazed at the sky, willing the clouds to clear.

"It's a good day to curl up with a book," Remus said, coming up behind him. Sirius and James were in the dining room, engulfed in a game of wizard's chess. From the sound of Sirius's cursing, he was losing quite badly.

"I wanted to play quidditch," Harry said glumly.

"Sorry, Pup. I think quidditch will have to wait."

Harry flung himself onto the sofa. He'd been so happy when his dad told him he could have a reprieve. It seemed nothing could go right for him lately, not even on Christmas.

"Are you all right? You seem, I don't know, agitated."

"Did you know my dad's going on dates? With women?" Harry asked.

"Last I heard there was only one woman, and yes, I knew. I knew he was considering it anyway. Has he actually asked her out?"

"He's going to at New Year's," Harry said with a grimace.

"And you don't want him to?"

"It's not that I don't want him to. It's just... I don't know. It's weird to think of him dating someone. Do you think he'll snog her?"

"I'm sure he hopes so," Remus said with a smile.

"Gross," Harry said, curling his lip.

Remus laughed. "You won't feel that way about it before long," he said.

"Have you ever snogged anyone?"

"Yes. I had a girlfriend for a long while right after I left Hogwarts. Her name was Mary, and we started dating just after graduation. She came to your parents' wedding with me, but we broke up not long after that."

"Why?"

"She decided she couldn't handle being with someone who was sick."

"Well, I think she was an idiot. Who would ever break up with someone just because they're sick?"

Remus's blood ran cold for a moment as he considered telling Harry his secret. He looked at the boy; he was thirteen. That was the same age James and Sirius had been when they found out. Surely Harry would puzzle it out soon. Next term he would be studying phases of the moon in both Astronomy and Potions. Remus took a deep breath and decided that he would rather Harry hear it from him than piece it together on his own.

"I'm not just any kind of sick," he said slowly, sitting next to Harry on the sofa and trying to ignore the frigid fear that was currently clawing at his stomach. "I'm a werewolf."

Harry's eyes went wide for a moment. Then he smiled. "Very funny. I'm not that gullible."

"I'm not joking," Remus said softly. "Don't you remember my boggart?"

"I thought it was a crystal ball," Harry said warily.

Remus shook his head. "No," he whispered, "it was a full moon."

Harry shrank up small inside his robes, his mind working to make sense out of what Remus was telling him. His heart was beating quickly in his chest. It was true, he realized as he thought about it. As all the pieces clicked into place, he wondered how he had never seen it before. He turned to look at Remus. He had never noticed before how old and tired Remus looked: much older than Sirius or James. His golden brown hair was graying at the edges, and the lines on his face were far deeper and more numerous than his thirty-three years should have warranted. Harry looked into Remus's eyes, for the first time seeing the weariness in their soft brown depths.

"For how long?" Harry asked.

"I was four when I was bitten. I don't remember it much. I mostly just remember feeling scared."

"Who else knows?"

"Not many people, outside of those who work in the werewolf division at the ministry, and they're a pretty tight-lipped bunch, thankfully. Werewolves have to register so that if we ever attack anyone we can be more easily... disposed of." Remus said, choosing his words carefully.

"You mean killed?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I mean killed," Remus replied, as gently as he could. "If I ever were to bite someone, I would be... well, you don't need to think about that."

"So you've never bitten anyone?"

Remus shook his head. "I would never be able to forgive myself if I had. It's my worst fear. It's better now than it used to be, though. A chap called Damocles invented a potion, called the Wolfsbane potion, that lets me at least keep my human mind. Before that, I had no control over myself. I'd have to be locked away from humans, and then I would bite and scratch myself since I had no one to attack. Wolfsbane is the only thing that has ever made it bearable."

"That's what Snape gave you that day, wasn't it?"

"Yes, I have to drink it every day for a week leading up to the full moon or else it won't work."

"What's it like to transform?" Harry asked, a small glimmer of fear in his eyes.

Remus reflected for a moment before he answered. He wasn't sure how much of his burden it was fair to lay at Harry's feet. "It's frightening and painful," he finally said.

"I'm sorry," Harry said sympathetically.

Remus shrugged. "It can't be helped, at least not until someone finds a cure. Maybe it'll even be you!" Remus smiled at Harry, glad that he seemed to be taking the news so well.

"You can't tell anyone," Remus quickly warned. "Not even Ron or Hermione. It has to be a secret. If anyone found out, I'd never be allowed to teach. It's always had to be a secret. James and Sirius were the first people I ever talked to about it, besides my parents and healers. They figured it out in the spring of our second year. I was scared to death. I thought they wouldn't want to be friends with me anymore."

"Why wouldn't they?" Harry asked, surprised that Remus had ever had such a thought about his father and his godfather.

"Most people aren't particularly friendly to werewolves, Harry. I thought they'd prefer a friend who was normal."

"You are normal," Harry reassured him. "You've just got a... problem."

Remus smiled. "A furry little problem," he agreed.

"That's what you three were talking about all these years? I always reckoned you were talking about whatever you were keeping in your basement."

Remus raised one eyebrow.

"Oh," Harry said dully as the realization hit him. "You were keeping yourself in your basement." Harry was suddenly indignant. "And you used to make me clean up down there!"

"Only when you misbehaved," Remus said defensively.

There was a sudden sound from the doorway and Remus and Harry both turned to see James and Sirius standing there. "Sorry, we didn't mean to interrupt," James said quickly.

"It's all right, we were nearly done. Is it lunchtime?" Remus asked, rising.

"Almost. I was hoping Harry would help me set the table."

"Sure," Harry said as he stood.

In the kitchen, James whispered to Harry, "I'm very proud of the way you handled that."

"How else would I have handled it?" Harry whispered back. "It's Remus."

"Not everyone would have done so well."

"Why did you lie to me for so long?" Harry asked suddenly.

"It wasn't my place to tell you. Remus is the only one who has the right to decide who gets told and who doesn't."

Harry nodded. That made sense. "Was he afraid to tell me?"

James nodded. "It's not personal. He's afraid to tell anyone, but I think it was especially hard to tell you. He was worried you wouldn't love him anymore if you knew."

"Of course I still love him," Harry said, a little too loudly.

"Shh," James warned in a whisper. "I don't want him to know we're talking about him."

"I already know you're talking about me," Remus's voice drifted in from the dining room. "I'm not stupid, you know."

"How ever did you hear us?" James asked.

"Sound amplifying spell," Remus called back.

"He's a sneaky bugger," James said to Harry.

"I heard that," Remus said.

"Good. I meant you to," James replied.

The rest of the day passed pleasantly, even though the snow never let up. "I don't suppose you'll let me play quidditch tomorrow?" Harry asked hopefully after dinner.

"No, I think you can safely assume that the cosmos has decided you should stay grounded."

"As an astronomer, I feel I should point out that the cosmos does not have opinions on parenting," Sirius cut in, "Nor does it control the weather."

"Anyone for chess?" James asked, ignoring him.

"I'm up for it," Remus replied.

"I think I'll sit out this round. I've already lost enough for today." Sirius said quickly.

James and Remus both stood and made their way to the dining room.

"I think you made Remus's day by being so understanding about his furry little secret," Sirius told Harry, reaching over to give him a playful push. "I'm proud of you, Pronglet."

Harry smiled. Then a memory struck him suddenly.

"Oi!" He said. "I've just had a thought."

"What was that?" Sirius asked.

"Was Remus the werewolf in the Shrieking Shack?"

Sirius's smile abruptly faded. He nodded.

"So, when you sent Snape down the tunnel, the werewolf he would have met..."

"Would have been Remus," Sirius finished.

"And if he had attacked Snape, he would have been..."

"Executed," Sirius said grimly. "I told you it was the worst thing I've ever done." Sirius took a deep breath. He would have to tell the whole story. "It all started with a stinging hex," he began.

Harry listened intently as Sirius began to weave his tale.


	23. Sirius's Story

At sixteen, Sirius Black was on top of the world. He was handsome, smart, talented, charismatic, and popular. He had the best friends a bloke could ever want. He could get any girl he wanted. His life at Hogwarts was nearly perfect. If Sirius had known, on the cold October morning that he began the chain reaction that would cause it all came to come crashing down around him, what was going to happen that day, he may have gone back to bed.

He made his way to breakfast like every other morning - his best mate, James, on one side of him, his other best mate, Remus, on the other side, and his third mate, Peter, on the other side of Remus. They were easily the four coolest, most popular boys in school, and the way they walked showed clearly that they knew it. As they were walking, the quartet came across Snivellus Snape, talking to another Slytherin in undertones in an alcove off the corridor.

Today, they walked past. They were one-up on Snivelly at the moment, and therefore had no reason to even acknowledge his existence. Just yesterday, James had managed to hit him with a tickling charm in the middle of Potions. In the ensuing chaos, Snape had knocked over his own polyjuice potion and would now have to brew a make-up. James felt a tad guilty about it; he hadn't meant to make Snape destroy his potion, and the re-brewing process would take him over a month.

His guilt was limited, however. Snape was foul, after all, and he had immediately accused James and Sirius of casting the charm without an ounce of proof. The fact that James had done it was beside the point, as far as the marauders were concerned; Snivellus would have accused them even if they'd had nothing to do with it.

Luckily for the marauders, Slughorn favored them and, so, it was easy enough to convince him that they'd had nothing to do with it, particularly once Remus-the-prefect vouched for them. Seeing them get off without punishment had enraged Snape, which only increased the marauders' sense of poetic justice about the whole affair.

James and Sirius were the clear leaders of the marauders, so as James held his head up high and walked past, the others fell into lockstep with him and did the same. They were nearly around the corner when the stinging hex hit James on the bum. He turned in a heartbeat, rubbing his backside like an errant child who had just been given a smack, and glared at Snape. Snape glared back.

They might have had a duel right there in the corridor if Lily Evans hadn't happened by. She had been best mates with Snape before they had a falling out during the last term. She was no longer as fond of him as she once was, but she still remembered the glimpses of kindness she had seen in him when they were younger, and she still hated to see him being bullied. Seeing the imminent confrontation, she quickly stepped between them.

"Leave him alone," she snapped at James. "He hasn't done anything to you!"

"Actually, he just hit me with a stinging hex for no reason except that he's a wanker," James informed her. "Move out of the way."

"I will not, and I do not believe he hit you with a hex for no reason. You hex him every chance you get. Don't even try to pretend you don't."

For a moment, James looked as though he would like to hex the both of them and ruin any chances he ever had of snogging Lily Evans.

"Come on, Prongs, let's get out of here," Sirius said beside him. "He's not worth it."

"Fine," James snapped, and they turned to go. This time, the stinging hex hit Sirius. Sirius turned in fury to discover that Lily clearly had not seen. She had turned to face Snape, who had a gloating look on his face.

"That's it!" Sirius said loudly. In his anger, he dropped his books and his wand and flung himself at Snape, punching every inch of him he could. By the time Remus, James, Peter, and Lily managed to pull them apart, Snape was sporting a broken nose over his cut lip, and a large excited crowd had assembled. It took James and Peter both to hold Sirius back as he shouted threats at Snape. Lily tended to Snape with a near-constant string of insults aimed at the marauders, even going so far as to suggest one of Sirius's ancestors may have been a troll. Remus-the-prefect stood in the middle of the fray not sure what to do, which was how he happened to be the first one to see McGonagall coming. He tried to tell Sirius to shut up, but Sirius either didn't hear him or didn't care.

"What's all this?" McGonagall asked, taking in the scene.

"Black hit Severus," Lily reported.

"He hexed me!" Sirius protested. "And James."

"And I'm sure you did nothing to him to provoke him?" McGonagall asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, as a matter of fact, we didn't," James told her, looking her in the eye and hoping his past history of being a terrible liar would convince her he was telling the truth now.

"I find that difficult to believe, Potter," McGonagall said sternly. "Black and Snape, fifteen points from Slytherin and Gryffindor for this ridiculous display, and you can both join me tomorrow evening in detention. Evans, please take Snape to the hospital wing. As for you three," she said, indicating Remus, James, and Peter, "ten points from Gryffindor for each of you. I do not for one moment believe you three were innocent in this."

Sirius glared after McGonagall as she went and fought the urge to hex Snape as Lily helped him around the corner and out of sight.

"I think it might be time for you to give up on Evans," Sirius told James.

"Nah, she'll come around," James said, running his fingers through his already-messy hair to make it messier. "You're just mad she said you're descended from a troll."

Peter let out a small snort of laughter. "You think that's funny, do you, _Wormtail_?" Sirius snapped, snatching his wand off the ground and brandishing it at Peter. "Let's see how funny you think it is when you're hanging up by your ankles!"

"Padfoot, stop!" James said, stepping between them. "He's not the one you're mad at."

"You're right," Sirius said, taking a threatening step toward James. "I'm mad at _your girlfriend_."

"She's not my girlfriend," James said softly.

"What do you see in her anyway?" Sirius asked bitterly. "She's a nightmare."

James pulled out his wand and pointed it at Sirius. "You take that back right now!" He shouted.

"Are you going to hex me over a girl?" Sirius asked coldly. "I thought we said we'd never let a girl come between us."

"Evans isn't any girl," James said menacingly. "I'm going to marry her someday."

"The day you marry Lily Evans, I'll kiss Snivellus," Sirius said, a cruel glitter in his gray eyes. He couldn't have said why he was taking his anger out on James, but, somehow, he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"Stop it, both of you," Remus-the-prefect said, stepping between them. "You two don't mean this. You're just mad at Snivellus. Come on, let's get to breakfast."

Without a word, James turned his back on Sirius and started toward the Great Hall. Sirius could never have said for sure, but for a split second, he thought he saw a look of disappointment on Peter's face.

Sirius followed his friends to the Great Hall, nursing his wounded ego. It was the first time he and James had ever had any sort of a row worth mentioning, and it was all Snivellus Snape's fault. Sirius sat tensely with his friends in the Great Hall as James stabbed angrily at his food and refused to speak to Sirius. Sirius, fearing he might end up losing his best friend, decided he had to come up with a way to get even with Snape.

By lunchtime, Sirius and James had reconciled, but Sirius's anger at Snape didn't cool. Sirius had always had a slow-burning anger. It took quite a bit of doing to get him to lose his temper, but once he had, he could hold a grudge indefinitely and was capable of showing surprising cruelty to the object of his ire. In causing a row between Sirius and James, Snape had finally gone too far and Sirius would have been willing, in that moment, to go to the ends of the earth to get even.

Two days later was the full moon, so Sirius, James, and Peter spent the evening running around with Remus during his transformation. As they were sneaking out of the castle, Sirius happened to look behind them and see Snape hiding behind a corner.

"Snivelly is following us," Sirius informed his friends. James turned to look and saw him there. He quickly took out his invisibility cloak and threw it over the three of them. They didn't like to use it when all three of them were there because it was almost too small for them now, so it slowed their progress, but it wouldn't do to have Snape following them. They had to fight the urge to laugh and give themselves away when they saw the look of confusion on Snape's face as they seemingly disappeared. He stalked away muttering about disillusionment charms.

The next morning at breakfast, Sirius broke protocol by going to the Slytherin table and sitting casually across from Snape. "I saw you following us last night," he said after he had cast _muffliato _so they wouldn't be overheard. "If you'd like to know where we've been going, go to the whomping willow tonight at ten o'clock. Use a stick to poke the third knot from the bottom and take the secret passageway. You'll find something very interesting waiting for you at the other end."

Then, without another word, Sirius lifted the spell with a flick of his wand and strode casually away, stopping only to give his brother, Regulus, a playful push as he passed. Regulus scowled at him in return. Despite Sirius's repeated efforts to reach out to his brother, the two were not close, something that bothered Sirius far more than he let on.

"What was that about?" James asked when Sirius returned to the Gryffindor table.

"Oh, nothing. We've just come to an understanding," Sirius told his friend. "He won't be following us anymore."

That night at ten o'clock, Sirius posted himself next to the window in his dormitory to watch as Snape followed his instructions. He did not realize that James had come to stand behind him until James spoke.

"What are you staring at?" He asked, causing Sirius to jump.

"Look at the willow," Sirius told him. James looked just in time to see Snape disappear down the passageway.

James's eyes grew wide. "What did you do?" He asked loudly. "He could be killed!"

"He won't be killed. It'll just give him a fright is all," Sirius said dismissively. "He deserves it."

"He could expose Moony!" James shouted. At this, Sirius paled. He hadn't thought of that. He just thought Snape would be so frightened at seeing a werewolf that he'd stop following them.

"Shit," Sirius said.

"You arsehole!" James said, then he took off running out of the dormitory as fast as he could go. James flew through the corridors and down the stairs, not even trying to be discreet. He met no one, and if he had, he probably would have bowled them over in his haste to get to the secret passageway. The main doors were locked, but he knew of a side door in the kitchens that let out right near the whomping willow. He almost hated to stop running long enough to tickle the pear that would allow him access to the kitchen.

When he gained access, he ran as fast as he could across the kitchen, trying to ignore the panicked house elves careening out of his way. He was quite fond of the little creatures and hated to upset them, but there was nothing for it. He barely noticed the chill in the air when he stepped outside and ran full out to the whomping willow. He stopped only a moment to prod the secret knot and then entered the passageway and rushed down it as quickly as his legs would carry him.

The farther he got down the passageway, the greater his panic grew. What if he was too late? He finally saw Snape when he was nearing the end of the passage. "Severus, no!" He yelled. He didn't know if he had ever before used Snape's given name, much preferring "Snivellus", but it felt right to do so now. "Stop!"

Snape turned to look at him. "Oh no," he said haughtily. "I'm finally going to find out your secret, and you can't stop me." He quickly opened the door at the end of the passageway just as James got to him and pulled him back, slamming the door shut. He had managed to keep Snape from getting hurt, but he was too late to keep him from seeing Remus. Remus had clearly seen him, too. The door began to rattle as Remus attacked the other side of it.

"Don't worry, the door will hold, but we have to get out of here," James said quickly. "Are you hurt?"

Snape shook his head, his face pale and his black eyes wide. "Was that... was that..." he panted. "That was a werewolf!"

"We have to go." James said again. He turned and started walking back toward the entrance to the passageway. Now that some of his panic was starting to wear off, it was being replaced with disappointment and anger. He was going to kill Sirius. He never would have thought his friend capable of something like this.

"I knew it! I knew Lupin was a werewolf," Snape said triumphantly, his eyes glittering with malevolence. "Always disappearing at the full moon. You must think everyone around you is so stupid, telling everyone he's ill."

"You can't tell anyone," James said desperately. Snape looked like Christmas had come early.

"It isn't his fault," James continued. "He's a good person. He'll be expelled if anyone finds out."

"That's not my problem," Snape said coldly.

"I just saved your life," James retorted angrily.

"You only did it to save your own hide, so it's not going to work trying to use that to guilt me. I'm going to tell everyone what you've been up to."

James fought with his temper. Snape had always known just how to push his buttons, but he couldn't afford to let him do so now. He tried desperately to think of something - anything - to keep Snape quiet.

He tried bribery.

"If you keep your mouth shut, I promise I'll never hex you again. I'll leave you alone. I'll even tell everyone I heard you're good at snogging."

He tried threats.

"If you tell, I'll hit you with every hex ever invented. I'll make you so miserable you'll wish you'd never been born."

He tried begging.

"Please, Severus, please don't tell anyone. I'll do anything."

None of it worked. Snape was almost giddy as they emerged from the passageway. James felt like he might puke. The feeling only increased when he saw Dumbledore running toward them.

"Peter's just told me what happened. Are you hurt?" Dumbledore asked, his blue eyes clouded with concern.

"We're fine," James said glumly.

"Did you know Lupin's a werewolf?" Snape asked. James groaned.

"Come with me, both of you, quickly." Dumbledore ordered, and he led them both to his office. Sirius was already there, looking miserable. Peter was there as well, looking frightened. McGonagall was there looking livid.

"What is the meaning of this?" She said sternly when James walked in.

"Minerva, please, let's give them a moment to explain." Dumbledore said.

Snape immediately told how Sirius had sent him down the passageway and how James had come after him, yelling like an idiot. He also told how James had threatened to hex him, but seemed to leave out the polite requests, attempts at bribery, and begging that had also occurred.

"I am glad you were not hurt, Severus. James, it was very brave of you to rescue your fellow student."

"Brave?" Snape protested. "He only did it to keep himself out of trouble!"

"That's not true," James snapped. "I did it to keep you from getting yourself killed. Who goes traipsing down a secret passageway in the middle of the night, anyway? Was the whomping willow over the entrance not enough of a clue that it was a stupid idea?"

Snape let out a small, angry sound, clearly incensed at the implication that he had done something unwise. Before he could respond, however, Dumbledore cut him off.

"That's quite enough, boys," Dumbledore said sternly. "Severus, I am sure you realize the implications for Mr. Lupin if his... illness were to become known."

"Yes," Snape said, trying not to smile.

"I would have no choice to expel him," Dumbledore said gravely. At this, Snape did smile. James swallowed down the desire to break his nose for the second time in a week. Dumbledore continued without missing a beat, "and if I were to discover that someone found out because you had told them, and believe me, Severus, I would find out, I would have no choice but to expel you along with him."

Snape's smile faltered and his eyes grew wide before darkening angrily. For a moment, he looked as though he thought his own expulsion might be a fair price to pay to finally hurt the marauders. "I won't tell anyone," he muttered after a pause that seemed to James and Sirius to last a lifetime.

"Good lad," Dumbledore said approvingly. "You are dismissed then."

Snape glared at James and Sirius as he turned and left the room.

"Peter," Dumbledore said, "you did the right thing in getting your head of house and coming to me. Ten points for Gryffindor. You are dismissed."

Peter rose and hurried out, leaving James and Sirius alone with Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"James," Dumbledore said, smiling broadly at James, "I am so proud of you. You behaved valiantly tonight, and you are a credit to your house. I award you forty points."

"Thank you, sir," James said uncertainly.

"Do you have something else you would like to say?" Dumbledore asked serenely.

"Do you think Snape will tell anyone about Remus? Only it isn't his fault, and I don't want to see him expelled for someone else's--" here James cut his eyes coldly to Sirius who immediately dropped his gaze in response and looked, if possible, even more miserable, "mistake." James finished.

"If I thought he wouldn't keep the secret, I would have cast a memory charm on him. No, I believe he will hold his tongue. He will not risk his own expulsion." Dumbledore responded. "Is there anything else?"

"No, sir," James said.

"Then you are dismissed," Dumbledore told him. James turned and left, looking at Sirius with a mixture of sadness and anger as he did so.

The shutting of the door was an ominous sound for Sirius. As long as his friends were there with him, even as they were clearly disgusted with him, he felt braver. Now he felt like a small child wearing a troll leg trash can on his head and waiting for a beating. As he sat in the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, he was trembling visibly. He was sure he was going to be expelled, and the prospect terrified him. He had no idea what was going to happen to him. He had nowhere to go. He was sure the Potters would never let him come back to their house now, and his own parents had disowned him over the summer.

Dumbledore was regarding him sadly. "Please explain to me why you have done this," he said after a long silence.

"I wasn't thinking," Sirius whispered.

"That much is obvious," McGonagall said sternly.

"I only thought it would scare him. I never thought about him getting hurt, and I never thought about him exposing Remus."

"I suppose you also didn't think about what would have happened to your friend if he had hurt Severus?" Dumbledore said sternly.

Sirius shook his head as the realization came crashing down around him. If Remus had hurt Snape, he would have been beheaded. Sirius had risked his friend's life for a joke. "No," he whispered, dropping his head and staring at his lap. A painful lump formed in his throat, and he willed it away. No matter what happened, he would be brave. He would not spend his last few moments as a Gryffindor blubbing.

"Look at me, please, Sirius," Dumbledore said sternly. Sirius popped his head up and met Dumbledore's eyes, terrified gray meeting melancholy blue. The lump in his throat hardened. He had never seen Dumbledore looking so disappointed.

"I know you're a good boy, and I can tell by looking at you that you regret what you did. However, that does not excuse your actions. I understand that you and Severus are rivals, and I understand that he is hardly innocent, but I am telling you now that it will stop. If you are brought before me again for anything involving Severus Snape, no matter how small, I can assure you that you will be expelled."

Sirius took a deep breath as the implications of Dumbledore's words hit him. "You mean... you mean I'm not being expelled now?" He asked.

"Not today, Sirius. I am trusting that you have learned your lesson. I now turn you over to your head of house."

"Thank you, sir," Sirius said as his breathing began to return to normal and relief spread through his chest. "Thank you."

"I wouldn't look too relieved, Black." McGonagall's voice cut into his thoughts. Sirius looked up at her and swallowed hard, his fear returning in an instant. He had very little doubt about what she was planning to do to him. He hated to think of having disappointed McGonagall. He respected her very much and had always suspected that she was fond of him in return. Though stern, and not at all reluctant to punish him when she felt he deserved it, she had always been kind to him, even offering words of comfort when he was sick or hurt or upset. Years later, when he was a teacher at Hogwarts, he would find that he was correct in his assessment; McGonagall told him that she had always been quite fond of the marauders, with the sole exception of Peter Pettigrew.

Sirius followed McGonagall forlornly to her office where he received the most severe caning she had ever given him and the only one, after the very first, that managed to bring tears to his eyes. When he had been dismissed, he made his way gingerly to his dormitory, thankful for the late hour that meant he would meet no one in the halls.

"James, are you awake?" Sirius whispered when he arrived in the dormitory.

"Yes," James answered. Sirius approached his friend's bed, which was bathed in the light of the horrid full moon. James turned his back on him.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry," Sirius said softly.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," James said coldly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to sleep."

"James, please just talk to me," Sirius pleaded.

James turned in the bed and sat up, glaring at Sirius. He had never seen James look at him so angrily. He was thankful for the darkness as he felt tears spring anew to his eyes. "I have nothing to say to you," James spat. "Good night." Then James turned his back on Sirius once more and pulled the draperies around his bed.

Sirius shuffled over to his own bed feeling utterly rejected. He cast a silencing charm around his bed so that James and Peter wouldn't hear him crying as he wiped dejectedly at the tears that would not seem to stop falling.

The next day, James refused to speak to Sirius at all. Remus and Peter followed James's example. Remus, in particular, was horrified by what his friend had done. Meanwhile, Snape was busy telling the whole school that Sirius had tried to kill him. Sirius was surprised by how many people believed it; he would never escape his Black blood, it seemed. He found himself almost thankful for the month of detention he had received. At least that kept him out of the suddenly-lonely common room. When he was not in detention, he took to spending large patches of time in the library. He could not have been more miserable.

Sometimes, when he entered into a classroom, he moved to take his normal seat beside James before he remembered. Then he would stop short and slip into a seat nearby. He listened to his old friends' conversations longingly, wishing he could be part of them. He apologized to each of them individually and together, so many times that he lost count, but it never seemed to make a difference. Something was broken between them, and Sirius didn't know how to fix it.

Rather than walking the halls with his normal confidence and devil-may-care attitude, he shuffled along quickly and quietly from class to class. He began eating his meals with other students, students who couldn't seem to believe their luck that Sirius Black was deigning to sit with them, but who quickly discovered that he was not pleasant company at the moment. Three weeks went by like that, and Sirius began to lose all hope that he would ever be reconciled with his three closest friends.

Then, three weeks to the day after the fateful morning when he had slipped into the seat across from Snape at the Slytherin table, Sirius walked morosely into Transfiguration and James caught his eye. He said nothing, but he pulled out the chair next to him and motioned for Sirius to sit. Sirius took the proffered chair gratefully. No one spoke to him, but he knew it would be only a matter of time now that the first move had been made. James allowed Sirius to sit next to him in the rest of their classes that day. In the final class of the day, Potions, James placed a small piece of folded-up parchment in front of Sirius's cauldron.

"What were you thinking," was written on it in James's messy scrawl.

"I wasn't," Sirius scribbled back.

"You never do," James wrote.

Sirius was looking at the note trying to figure out what to write back when Slughorn happened by and attempted to confiscate the parchment. Sirius quickly put it into his mouth, chewed it up, and swallowed it with a loud gulp. Slughorn roared with laughter. So did James. "Anyone who's got that much nerve deserves five points," Slughorn said approvingly, "but no more passing notes."

"You really are an idiot, Padfoot," James said affectionately after Slughorn had gone. Things had gone back to normal between them very quickly after that. It was as though they had never quarreled at all. It was still a few more days before Remus forgave him, but eventually he did and, with his best mates beside him, Sirius Black was back on top of the world.

The incident was not without its effects. Snape's animosity for the marauders reached new heights as he saw Sirius face no noticeable punishment for his behavior. Sirius, wiser for the experience, and banned from fighting with Snape, deflated his ego a bit and, within a few months, had become a much more humble version of himself. James, having seen firsthand what the consequences of their treatment of Snape could have been, came out of the experience calmer and kinder than he previously was.

Snape did not notice the change in the two ringleaders of the marauders, but the other students did, and it only increased their popularity. Their natural leadership abilities began to shine. As though it were what she had been waiting for, Lily Evans finally agreed the following spring to accompany James to Madame Puddifoot's. The staff noticed the change as well, and James found himself appointed head boy in their next and final year. By mutual unspoken agreement, the marauders rarely spoke of the incident again. What could have spelled disaster for the friends instead became a small footnote in their history.

* * *

Seventeen years later, sitting in James's living room on a snowy Christmas evening, Sirius finished telling Harry the story. Harry listened, rapt in attention.

"It was the worst thing I've ever done," Sirius admitted, "except convince your parents to trust Peter Pettigrew."

"Did you ever kiss Snape?" Harry asked.

"What?" Sirius returned.

"That day you fought, you said if my dad ever married Lily Evans, you'd kiss Snape. Did you?" Harry asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"I'll tell you the same thing I told your father when he brought up that very question at his stag party. I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

Harry smiled. "My dad always told me I can never believe anything you say unless you're in the classroom."

"He was clearly lying," Sirius said with a grin. "I simply ooze respectability."


	24. Life Lessons

"Are you sure you don't want to play?" Ron asked Hermione. The three had arrived back at Hogwarts from their holiday only a few hours before and were enjoying a few stress-free hours before classes recommenced the next day. Hermione in particular was beginning to crack from the strain of all her classes, and Ron and Harry were worried about her. They had discussed her in whispers when she excused herself from their compartment during the trip back from London to use the loo.

"Do you think she relaxed at all during her holiday?" Ron asked.

"She certainly doesn't look it. She's working too hard. Do you reckon we could talk her into dropping something?" Harry answered.

"Not likely. You know how she is. There's no telling her anything once she's made up her mind."

"I wonder if we should ask McGonagall to talk to her, or Sirius."

"Shh, here she comes."

Hermione entered the compartment tersely and picked up her Ancient Runes text. "Harry, do you remember what Professor Babbling told us 'eihwaz' means?" She asked.

"No, but why don't you ask her Tuesday?"

"And admit that I forgot!" Hermione nearly shrieked.

"I'll ask her then," Harry suggested. "I don't mind her thinking I forgot."

"No, no. I'll just look it up."

"Suit yourself," Harry said, sharing a significant look with Ron.

"And you two can stop making eyes at each other. I can see your reflection in the window, you know," Hermione snapped.

"Would you like us to go find another compartment so you and your precious book can have some privacy?" Ron snapped back.

Hermione looked up for a moment, stung, but then she quickly reburied her head in her book.

Harry shot Ron a dirty look on Hermione's behalf but was tempted to snap at her himself as the ride went on and she continually told them to keep it down.

"No, I always lose at Wizard's Chess," Hermione answered Ron's request in the Gryffindor common room.

Harry and Ron knew this, and they both thought losing at something on occasion was good for her.

"You can play me," Harry suggested, "and I'll go easy on you. Come on. You have to take a break from studying sometime."

"Oh, all right. I can't find what I'm looking for anyway," Hermione agreed. "And I'm sorry for snapping at you so much. I just feel like I have too much to do."

"Why won't you drop something?" Ron asked. "Divination's rubbish, and you don't really need Muggle Studies."

"But it's so interesting studying muggles from a magical perspective. And besides, I really like Professor Burbage."

"Just drop Divination, then. All her homework's busy work. That would free up hours for you."

"I'm fine, thank you," she said thinly, pursing her lips. Ron looked as though he would like to say more but, after a warning look from Harry, he wisely dropped the subject.

"Did I tell you my dad's going on a date?" Harry asked, hoping to distract them from their quarrel.

"That's wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed.

"No, it isn't," Harry said quickly.

"Who with?" Ron asked.

"I woman called Brownie, or something like that. I forget," Harry said. "Anyway, I don't like her."

"Have you even met her?" Hermione asked.

"No, but that doesn't matter. I already know I don't like her."

"Not one for giving a person a chance, then?" Ron asked.

"Let it be, Ron," Hermione said swiftly, surprising both boys.

"Why? He's not being fair to her. What if she ends up marrying Mr. Potter?"

"He's not going to marry her," Harry said quickly. "He's going to go on a few dates with her and then realize he doesn't need her."

"He could marry her," Ron insisted. "People get married all the time."

"My dad doesn't. He's still in love with my mother." Harry did not notice that his voice was getting louder as he spoke. All across the common room, people were looking up from what they were doing and staring at him.

"I'm not saying he will," Ron continued. "I'm just saying he might. You don't want to go around being mean to someone who could end up being your step-mother."

"She's not going to be my step-mother! You don't know anything about it," Harry practically shouted.

"But--"

"Just shut up, Ron." Hermione hissed. "Harry obviously doesn't want to talk about this. Why are you always so stubborn?"

Ron huffed and stood, stomping over to join Fred and George. A few moments later, he rose again, glaring at his brothers, and stomped to the dormitory.

"For someone so smart, he sure is an idiot sometimes," Hermione told Harry.

After that, it was not the slightest bit difficult for Harry to let Hermione win.

The next day, Harry and Ron reconciled at breakfast, which turned out to be a fortuitous thing because when they arrived at Divination, Trelawney looked almost disappointed to see Harry in one piece. They were beginning their study on palmistry, and she informed the class melodramatically that Harry had the shortest life line she had ever seen. Harry had really been hoping that she would continue her pre-Christmas trend of cutting back on predictions of his death, but it appeared now that the holidays had only strengthened her resolve to have Harry join the ranks of the Hogwarts ghosts.

"If I really do die, I'm going to haunt her," Harry whispered angrily to Ron.

He was careful not to mention it to Sirius.

After their Tuesday Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, where the third years began studying imps, Remus and Harry resumed their regular meeting over cocoa. Remus informed Harry that he had caught a boggart, and they agreed to meet that Friday, immediately after dinner.

When their Friday meeting rolled around, Remus was all business. "This is really advanced magic, Harry. I have every confidence you can do it well, but it's going to be hard work. The incantation is 'Expecto Patronum'."

"Expecto Patronum," Harry repeated.

"A patronus acts as a positive shield between yourself and the dementors. It gives them something to feed on besides your emotions. In order to make it work, you need to think of a particularly happy memory. A powerful memory. Try to think of something."

Harry took a moment and thought, deciding on the first moment he flew on his Firebolt. He looked up at Remus and nodded. Remus made his way over to a small chest that was beginning to rattle.

"I'm going to let the boggart out, and when it sees you it'll become a dementor. You will think of your memory and say 'Expecto Patronum', but remember you've got to put power behind it. Are you ready?"

Harry nodded, feeling not the slightest bit ready. Remus opened the chest, and a dementor immediately came out.

Thinking of flying with all his might, Harry pointed his wand at the dementor and said the incantation. Nothing happened. He said it again. Again, nothing happened. He was starting to feel cold and frightened. A woman's voice was screaming in his head. "Not Harry. Please not Harry!"

His own voice was getting weaker and weaker as he repeated the incantation a third time with no success.

He awoke on the floor of Remus's office with Remus's face looking over him.

"That was really good for a first try, Harry," he said encouragingly.

"It was awful," Harry said, rising.

"Harry, listen to me. I told you this is very advanced magic. It isn't even taught until N.E.W.T. level, and even then most people have trouble with it. Some people never learn to do it. You can't get discouraged."

Harry nodded, and raised his wand, ready to try again. He thought of another memory, settling this time on the feeling when he won the house cup his first year.

He lasted a little longer this time before he passed out, his mother's dying words and Voldemort's cruel laugh playing like a record in his head.

The third time, he chose to remember snickering with his father as Dudley wet himself while a boa constrictor slithered up his leg. He laughed aloud at the memory.

"There you go!" Remus said approvingly.

This time, Harry managed to stay on his feet. He even shot a little silver vapor out of his wand. Remus stepped in front of him quickly and the boggart turned into the full moon. Remus forced it back into the chest and turned, beaming, toward Harry.

"That was wonderful, Harry. Simply wonderful! You've got a real talent for defense, you know. I tried for nearly a month before I could get even vapor to come out of my wand. Took Sirius three months."

"How long did it take my dad?"

"About a week. He has a real talent for defense as well. That's why he's such a good auror."

"I'm ready to try again."

"No, I think that's enough for today. Here," Remus handed Harry some chocolate and Harry ate it quickly, relishing the warmth that went through him. "We'll meet again next week."

"Remus, I have a question," Harry said uncertainly.

"What is it?"

"What's under a dementor's hood?"

Remus took a deep breath. He knew he would be getting this question eventually and had been trying to think of the best way to explain it. "You've heard of a dementor's kiss?" He asked.

Harry nodded. He didn't know what it was, but he had heard his dad mention that it had happened to someone from time to time. He always said it with a shudder.

"Do you know what it is?" Remus asked.

Harry shook his head.

"It is reserved for the very worst crimes. Those who have been kissed are the only ones who know what a dementor's face looks like, and they're not in any position to tell us. When a dementor kisses a person, they suck the person's soul out of their body through their mouth. The person lives, but they are only a shell of themselves. It's very nasty business."

"That's awful," Harry whispered, wrapping his arms around himself, "having to live without a soul. I wouldn't want that happening to anyone."

"I know what you mean. The ministry announced yesterday that they've sentenced Pettigrew to be kissed when he's caught. Your dad's furious. He says he doesn't want something like that being done to anyone in his name."

Harry nodded gravely. "I don't, either. Why would the ministry agree to that?"

"Have you ever heard the phrase 'the lesser of two evils'?"

Harry shook his head.

"It means you have to choose between two bad options, so you choose the best one, knowing all the while that it's a bad choice, but that it's better than the alternative."

"But why don't they just send Pettigrew back to Azkaban?"

"Because they don't know how he escaped in the first place, so for all they know, he can do it again. He's proven that he's a cold-blooded killer, so he could very well decide to go on another killing spree at any moment. This is the only way to make sure he can never hurt another person."

Harry nodded, trying to understand what Remus was saying.

"You should try not to think on it too much," Remus told him. "There's nothing you can do to change it."

Harry left Remus's office, trying to regain the happiness he felt when he conjured the silvery vapor. He made his way straight to his dormitory and took out his mirror, wanting to discuss everything with James.

"Dad," he called into his mirror when he got there.

James's face appeared quickly. He was obviously somewhere dark. Harry caught a strain of music playing in the background. "Just a minute, Harry," James whispered. Then the mirror went dark. It was nearly a full minute later before James reappeared. Judging from the background, he was in a bathroom stall.

"Sorry about that," he said. "All right?"

"Where are you?" Harry asked.

"I'm at the London Philharmonic," James said. "But I've got some time. It was nearly intermission anyway."

"What are you doing there?" Harry asked.

"Well, I'm sort of on a date," James told him.

"Oh," Harry said thickly. "Well, then, I shouldn't keep you."

"No, it's fine, Harry. I'm always happy to talk to you. What did you need?"

"Nothing," Harry lied. "I just wanted to say hello. I have to go anyway. I've got a lot of homework. Have a great time at the Philharmonic."

Without another word, and without giving James a chance to respond, Harry dropped his mirror into his nightstand drawer and closed it - a little too hard. Miles away, in London, James sighed and put the mirror in the pocket of the muggle suit he had donned for the occasion. He did not for one moment believe that Harry was doing homework on a Friday evening. He tried not to feel stung by Harry's sudden disappearance, telling himself that his son had merely been caught off guard or was perhaps trying to be thoughtful. Yet he couldn't quite shake the nagging suspicion that Harry was not as okay with James dating as he was letting on.

Back at Hogwarts, Harry made a beeline for the Astronomy Tower. Sirius answered the door almost immediately after Harry knocked.

"Hello, Pronglet. Come to distract me from my grading?"

"I just called my dad. He's on a date. With _that woman_," Harry said, stomping inside and flopping down on the sofa.

"Who? Brenda?" Sirius asked.

"Brownie," Harry corrected him.

"Bronwyn," Remus said, emerging from the kitchen with a cup of tea.

"Good," Sirius said.

"Why does everyone keep saying it's good? It's not good. Ron reckons he might marry her," Harry informed them.

"I think it's a little too early to be thinking about something like that," Remus said sympathetically.

"But what if he does?" Harry whinged.

"You know, you should give her a chance. You might like her," Sirius suggested.

"Do you like her?" Harry challenged.

"Well, I haven't exactly met her, but I'm sure I will. Your father happens to have excellent taste in women."

"How do you know she's not just after his gold?" Harry asked bitterly.

"She's a Llewellyn," Remus told Harry. "Chances are good she's got more gold than he does."

Sirius nodded his agreement. "They're a very old family. Older even than the Blacks."

"Then how do you know she's not a death eater?" Harry asked belligerently.

Remus choked on his tea.

"Being from an old family doesn't automatically make someone a death eater, Harry," Sirius said, a slight warning in his tone. "Just look at me. Besides, the Llewellyns have always been so-called blood traitors. Like the Weasleys. If there was ever a Llewellyn death eater, I never knew of it. Besides, I trust your dad's judgment, and so should you."

Harry sighed. "He's never been too busy to talk to me before," he commented bitterly.

"He actually told you he was too busy to talk to you?" Remus asked. "That doesn't sound like him."

"Well, those weren't his exact words," Harry admitted.

"What were his exact words?" Sirius asked, joining Harry on the sofa.

"Well, I asked him where he was and he told me he was at the philharmonic and I asked him why he was there and he told me he was on a date. Then I told him I didn't want to keep him and put my mirror away."

"Sounds to me like you were the one who decided not to talk to him," Sirius said gently.

"He was busy," Harry said defensively.

"But I bet you anything in the world he still would have talked to you if you'd let him," Remus pointed out.

"Why are you two ganging up on me?" Harry asked, his voice rising.

"We're not," Sirius responded. "At least, we're not trying to. But we don't want you giving your dad a hard time about this."

"Why shouldn't I?" Harry persisted. "He never asked me my opinion. If he might marry her, you'd think he at least would have consulted me first."

"What is all this talk about marriage? He's on his very first date with her. Why in the world are you thinking about marriage?"

"Ron said!" Harry began, but Sirius cut him off.

"Why are you putting so much weight on what Ron said? Is he an expert on relationships?"

"No, but--"

"Does he know your dad better than you do?"

"No, but--"

"Then why are you listening to him? He doesn't have a clue what he's talking about."

Harry made a noise in the back of his throat and threw up his hands in a gesture of frustration. Why couldn't anyone understand why he wasn't happy about this?

"Never mind," Harry said angrily. "I'm going back to my common room."

"Wait, Harry. Don't leave," Remus said quickly. But Harry ignored him and stomped out the door, slamming it loudly behind him.

He stomped up to the dormitory and climbed into his bed, not even sparing a word for Ron or Hermione. Despite the early hour, he fell into a restless sleep. His dreams were filled with rotting hands and putrid breathing. He woke up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and couldn't go back to sleep. He wandered down to the common room wishing he had his invisibility cloak so he could go apologize to Sirius and Remus for stomping out on them. Instead, he stared at the dying embers in the fireplace and read _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Toward dawn, he fell asleep on the sofa and woke with a start when his fellow Gryffindors began running down the stairs the following morning.


	25. Meetings and Mysteries

January flew by faster than Harry could keep track of it, and February seemed determined to do the same. Harry's patronus lessons continued. He could now consistently produce silver vapor on a first try, but he had yet to manage anything more solid than that. Remus kept telling him he was doing wonderfully, but Harry couldn't help feeling a little frustrated at his lack of progress.

It was an unseasonably warm morning in late February when Harry received an owl from his father at breakfast that contained several joke products and a small note. At the end of the note was a brief P.S. informing Harry that he could meet Bronwyn that weekend if he was still interested. Harry was very interested, and he called his father in his mirror straightaway. The two of them decided that they would spend the following Saturday together in Hogsmeade and meet Bronwyn at the Three Broomsticks for lunch.

"What sort of a name is 'Bronwyn' anyway?" Harry asked as they sat in the pub waiting for her.

"It's Welsh," James explained. "She's part of the Llewellyn Clan. You've probably heard of some of them. They're a very old pureblood family, and they've all got these ridiculously Welsh names like Riannon and Cadfan and Glynis."

"How do you know she's not a death eater, then?" Harry asked bluntly.

James choked on his butterbeer. "She's not a death eater," he said shortly. "They're a good family. Actually, they claim Merlin himself was part of their clan. There's no way to know for sure, of course, but he very well could have been. He was probably the biggest muggle lover in history, and they're proud to claim him. Harry, promise me you're going to be polite."

"Of course I am. I'm always polite," Harry said with a mischievous grin. James gave him a stern look. "I'll be polite." Harry promised.

Just then Bronwyn walked in. James waved to her and she waved back, smiling. She strode over to their table and James rose to greet her warmly, giving her a small peck on the cheek. Then Bronwyn turned to Harry and held out her hand. "Harry, it's so nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you."

"I haven't heard anything about you at all," Harry said flatly, reaching out to shake her hand without standing.

Behind Bronwyn, James shot Harry a warning look, which Harry pretended not to see. James held her seat for her while she sat, shooting daggers at Harry all the while. Harry smiled at him.

"So, Harry, James says you're quite the quidditch player," Bronwyn began when James had taken his seat.

Harry nodded.

"I played myself, in my seventh year. I was the keeper," Bronwyn said.

"Were you any good?" Harry asked.

"I was all right. Ravenclaw finished second that year. It was a close year. We only behind Slytherin thirty points."

"Gryffindor's only lost one game since I joined the team," Harry informed her. James shot him another dirty look.

"It sounds like you're very good," she said gamely. "Have you ever thought about playing after you leave school?"

"All the time," Harry said. "Did you ever play after you left school?"

"Oh, no, I wasn't that good," Bronwyn said, tossing her hair off her shoulders. "Besides, I had big dreams that did not involve quidditch."

"Threatening thirteen-year-olds with expulsion?" Harry asked. James dropped his head into his hands.

"No, actually, I wanted to be a singer," Bronwyn told him.

"Oh, do you sing?" Harry asked.

"Not well," Bronwyn admitted, then she leaned in conspiratorially and said, "but I wasn't about to let a little thing like that stop me."

"My mother could sing," Harry said.

"Harry, I'm sure Bronwyn doesn't want to discuss your mother," James said quickly.

"No, it's okay. I don't mind," Bronwyn told him.

"My mother also liked to garden. Do you garden?" Harry asked.

"Not really," Bronwyn said. "I have a few potted plants, but I'm really more of an indoor person."

"Dad," Harry said, turning to James, "We should start a garden."

"Harry," James said warningly.

"What?" Harry asked innocently. "I just think it would be nice to have some homegrown vegetables is all."

"I have a wild asparagus patch in my yard that I've been trying to get rid of for years. Maybe I can bring you some of those," Bronwyn offered.

"I don't like asparagus," Harry said bluntly. James cleared his throat loudly. Harry liked asparagus.

"Oh well, it was worth a try. At least that would stop my dog from eating it," Bronwyn said with a shrug.

"You have a dog?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I have a golden retriever called Rowena, after Ravenclaw. She's stupid, ironically, but I love her."

"I hate dogs," Harry said. James bit his lip to keep from saying something; Harry had been asking him if they could get a dog for years.

"Oh. Well I'll put her out if you ever come visit. So, what's your favorite subject in school?" Bronwyn asked.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry answered.

"I always liked Defense as well, but I really loved Potions."

"I don't like Potions at all. It doesn't require very much talent. You're really just reading a recipe."

James kicked him under the table.

"Ouch!" Harry yelped.

"What happened?" James asked innocently. "Did you bite your tongue?"

"No," Harry said, glaring at him as he reached down to rub his smarting shin. "I must have banged my leg on the table."

"You should be more careful," James told him, giving him a significant look.

The conversation deteriorated from there. It made a brief recovery when Bronwyn mentioned that Gwenog Jones was her first cousin and offered to introduce Harry to her. Harry tried not to look too excited. Gwenog Jones was one of the best quidditch players in Britain. "I've heard she's very stuck up," he finally said. James closed his eyes, pursed his lips, and began to take deep, calming breaths.

Bronwyn surprised Harry by laughing. "That she is. She always was, even when she was young. So, do you want to meet her?"

Harry shrugged, trying to look as though he didn't much care either way. "Yeah, sure, whatever," he said.

"Bronwyn, would you excuse us for a moment, please?" James said suddenly. "Harry, would you like to step outside with me?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine here," Harry said.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I'd given you an option. Let me rephrase that. Come with me right now."

"You know, I was just thinking we could use another round of drinks," Bronwyn said, standing. "I'll be right back." She hurried away.

James leaned in close to Harry and spoke through gritted teeth. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Making small talk," Harry said, forcing himself to meet his father's eyes.

"You're acting like no one's ever taught you any manners at all, and you're embarrassing me. I did not raise you to act like this. Now stop it."

"At least I'm not kicking people under the table," Harry shot back.

James gave Harry a look that caused him to immediately drop his gaze to his plate. "Sorry," he said softly. He peeked up at James after a moment and saw the same look still on his face. "Please don't look at me like that, Dad," he pleaded.

"Then behave yourself," James snapped. "Can I call her back over now, or do you need a moment?"

"You can call her back," Harry whispered, feeling his face grow hot. When Bronwyn came back with three butterbeers, Harry hardly looked up at her as he muttered a thank you. He stuck to monosyllabic answers for the rest of the meal.

When lunch was finished and the bill paid, James walked Bronwyn outside the pub. Harry stayed at the table sipping his butterbeer nonchalantly.

"That could have gone better," Bronwyn said when they had shut the pub door behind them.

"He's thirteen," James said by way of explanation.

"He's got a real talent for it," Bronwyn said, grimacing.

"Have I mentioned he's not really mine? I just found him on the side of the road one day. He was raised by wolves before that."

Bronwyn laughed. "That would certainly explain it," she said, smiling.

"He'll come around. He's excited about meeting your cousin. He was trying not to show it, but I could tell. Lunch Monday?"

"Of course. Have a good rest of the day," Bronwyn said. After the briefest of kisses, she turned and hurried into a nearby shop. James went back inside and joined his son.

"I don't like her," Harry said when James sat down.

"Really? It didn't show or anything," James said sarcastically. Then he softened. "Just out of curiosity, what is it about her you don't like?"

"I don't know," Harry said, shrugging. "She tosses her hair a lot."

James gave him a wry look. "You don't like her because she tosses her hair a lot?"

Harry shrugged again. "It's annoying."

"All women toss their hair a lot, you cheeky monkey. I suppose it's because they've all got so bloody much of it."

"Did mum toss her hair a lot?"

"I never paid attention," James said. "No, I suppose she didn't, now that you mention it. At least, not that I ever noticed."

"I don't like her laugh, either. It's obnoxious. She sounds like Peeves."

"I think her laugh is charming," James said. "It makes me want to laugh along with her."

Harry made a gagging noise and stuck his finger in his mouth. James grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and started playfully pushing him toward the door. "Come on, you," he said, trying not to laugh.

The two of them wandered up the High Street until they came to the Shrieking Shack.

"Do you really like Bronwyn?" Harry asked as they stood there looking at the shack.

"Yes, I really do," James told him.

"Have you snogged her?" Harry asked, looking as though he was afraid of what the answer would be.

"Yes," James said, raising his eyebrows and turning to look at his son.

"Ick," Harry said, curling his lip into the smallest sneer.

"Actually, she happens to be quite good at it, not that it's any of your business."

"I don't want to hear this," Harry said quickly.

"You asked," James said with mock defensiveness.

"And now I regret it!" Harry exclaimed.

The two stood in silence for a moment.

"I suppose I could have been nicer to her," Harry admitted.

"Yes, you certainly could have," James said sternly.

Harry dropped his head, and James let him sweat for a moment before throwing an arm around his shoulder.

"To be honest, I can understand how you feel. It's not easy to accept a new person in your life all of a sudden. But me going out with Bronwyn isn't going to change anything. I'm still going to love you just as much."

"I know that," Harry said. "It's not that. It's just..." Harry stopped, not sure how to explain why he didn't like Bronwyn. "Don't you still love Mum?" He finally asked.

"Yes, of course I do. And Bronwyn's not trying to replace your mother or anything like that. I was hopelessly in love with your mother, but it's been over twelve years. I have to move on sometime."

"But why does it have to be now? Can't you wait another year or two and move on then?" Harry asked, a slight whinge creeping into his voice.

"Now is just the right time," James said gently, giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze. "Please just try to give her a chance. Besides, it's not like I'm marrying her. We've only been on a half a dozen dates."

"But what if I need you, and you're too busy with her?" Harry asked, finally voicing the fear he had been feeling ever since he found out about Bronwyn before Christmas.

"I will never be too busy for you, Harry. Never. I would leave her standing alone in the rain to come for you if you needed me."

Harry leaned bodily into his father's sideways embrace. "I'll try to be nicer to her," he said forlornly.

"Good lad. Now come on, let's go see how much damage we can do in Honeyduke's."

As they turned to walk away, Harry could have sworn he saw someone standing at one of the windows of the shrieking shack, but when he looked closer, the window was empty.

He decided it must have been only a drapery or a shadow.


	26. Triumphs and Troubles

March blew in with a bluster of storms that made the wind howl outside the castle. The Gryffindor quidditch team began to prepare for its upcoming match against Ravenclaw. The closer the match grew, the more nervous Harry got. He couldn't help staring at the Ravenclaw seeker during meals in the Great Hall. He didn't think he had ever seen anyone more beautiful. A few times, she caught him looking at her and he looked away quickly, blushing. Once, she caught his eye and smiled. Harry's heart soared. He almost wished it could have happened in the middle of his patronus lessons. He was quite sure he could have produced the world's best patronus in that moment.

The day of the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw quidditch match dawned bright and cool.

"Perfect quidditch weather, men!" Oliver said enthusiastically as they changed into their robes.

"And women," the entire team said in unison with Angelina.

"Whatever," Oliver said dismissively.

"How would you like it if Katie, Alicia, and I decided to walk?" Angelina snapped, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at him.

"As I was saying, men and women," Oliver corrected himself immediately.

"Has anyone ever told you you're gorgeous when you're angry?" Fred asked Angelina.

She said nothing, but Harry saw a small smile play at her lips.

When the whistle blew, the team went out to greet the roaring crowds. Harry stood across from Cho smiling like an idiot. She smiled back. Harry didn't even notice the whistle telling him to mount his broom until Cho rose into the air.

"Stop flirting and play quidditch, Potter!" Oliver snapped.

In the stands, James saw but did not hear the exchange and turned to Sirius. "Who's that girl?"

"Cho Chang. She's a fourth year. Good student. Very polite. Very popular. Harry has your taste."

"I don't think I'm ready for him to start liking girls just yet," James said.

"I think that feeling might be mutual," Remus suggested.

James shrugged. There was no arguing with that.

Back in the game, Harry was circling the pitch, searching furiously for the snitch. He kept one ear toward Lee Jordan's commentary so he would know if it wasn't safe to catch the snitch. Luckily, Gryffindor took an early lead and kept it. Harry spied the snitch on the far end of the pitch and flew toward it. Cho saw it at nearly the same instant and began flying toward it as well. The two of them were flying neck-and-neck, both reaching out for the fluttering snitch.

They were nearly touching as Harry sped toward victory, but Harry couldn't bring himself to fight as he normally did to catch it. Cho was going to reach it first. Everyone in the stands was watching him.

"Harry, stop being a gentleman and knock her off her broom if you have to!" Oliver bellowed.

Then Cho screamed and pointed at something on the ground. Harry spared a glance and saw that four dementors had come onto the field. He quickly summoned the happiest memory he could - the way he felt whenever Cho smiled at him. "Expecto Patronum!" He shouted, pointing his wand at the dementors. He felt, rather than saw, the silvery shape that shot out of the end of his wand. He only had eyes for the snitch, which was floating just inches from his outstretched hand.

He caught the snitch easily and then looked to see what was happening with the dementors. For the first time, he noticed that he did not feel the cold, clammy fear that normally accompanied their presence.

Harry quickly realized why when he saw that Hooch, McGonagall, and Snape were lecturing the dementors, who turned out to be Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Marcus Flint, the Slytherin captain. Harry landed close enough to hear what McGonagall was saying.

"Never, in all my years of teaching, have I seen such a disgusting, unsportsmanlike display."

"Harry, that was great! How did you learn to cast a patronus?" George asked, running up to him. The rest of the team readily agreed as they celebrated their win together all the way to their locker room.

"Harry, you did it!" Remus greeted him when he emerged from the locker room. "That was wonderful!"

"Best patronus I've ever seen," James said, right on Remus's heels.

"Looked familiar, too," Sirius added.

"What was it?" Harry asked. "I didn't get to see."

"A stag," James said proudly.

"Like you," Harry said, smiling.

"Yes. Your mother's, too. Well, hers was a doe."

"You never told me that before," Harry said.

"Yes. She said it was proof that we were meant to be together."

"You should get to your common room, Pronglet. I'm sure your housemates are waiting to celebrate with you," Sirius announced.

"See you later," Harry told them before taking off toward the castle.

"Harry!" several voices greeted him as he entered the portrait hole. Fred and George had clearly already been to the kitchens to nick more food than the Gryffindors could ever eat. Harry sat in the seat that Ron and Hermione had saved for him on the sofa and ate more pumpkin pasties than was probably wise.

It was during his third pumpkin pasty that the idea came to him. He turned to Ron. "Do you reckon the Marauder's Map could give me the password to the Slytherin common room?" He asked.

"Maybe," Ron said. "It told you the password for the one-eyed witch, right?"

"I'm going to test it out tonight," Harry decided. "Think how much damage I could do if I can get into their common room whenever I want to."

Ron's face took on a dreamy look as he considered the possibilities.

"What are you two looking at?" Hermione asked.

"What?" Harry said, "Oh, nothing. You two want more butterbeer?"

"Of course," Ron said, smiling.

"Sure," Hermione agreed, and Harry rose to get the drinks.

The evening, when all the Gryffindors were sleeping, Harry sneaked out of the common room with his map. Watching the map carefully, he made his way to the dungeons. When he arrived at the common room, he studied the map closely as a word appeared before the dot labeled "Harry Potter". Harry smiled and made his way back to Gryffindor tower, his mind full of possibilities now that he knew the Slytherin password was "parseltongue".

Harry and Ron spent the next week collecting five jars full of flobberworms in Care of Magical Creatures. Ever since Malfoy provoked Buckbeak's attack, Hagrid hadn't had the heart to show them anything more exciting than that. Ron and Harry decided to make their move that Friday evening. Harry would be the one to actually do the deed, they had decided, while Ron would hide in the Entrance Hall with his mirror, ready to make a diversion if Harry should hit a snag.

They stayed up late that evening under the guise of playing wizard's chess. When the Marauder's Map told them that both the Gryffindor and Slytherin common rooms were empty, Ron gave Harry the jars of flobberworms and Harry took them, hiding them in his robes. They made their way down to the Entrance Hall, and Ron took up residence behind a statue of the four Hogwarts founders. "Good luck," he told Harry.

Harry went slowly down the stairs to the Slytherin dungeon. He checked the map one last time to be sure all the Slytherins were in their dormitories. Imagining the chaos in the morning, he dumped the flobberworms out on all the sofas and chairs. Then he turned and left the common room, eager to get back to his own dormitory and the warm, safe, flobberworm-free bed awaiting him there.

He checked the map when he emerged into the common room and did a double take. Snape was coming, and had managed to block Harry's exit. Harry turned on his heel and fled down the corridor, knowing it was a dead end, but hoping he could get far enough away from Snape that Snape would not follow. What was he doing wandering around the castle this late anyway?

Harry took refuge in an empty classroom, wishing his dad hadn't taken his cloak. He cringed as the door slammed shut behind him. If Snape didn't know someone was wandering around before, he certainly did now. Harry glanced at the map. Snape was nearly on top of him; he didn't have enough time to find another room. He looked around for a place to hide, but saw nothing but an old cupboard that looked as if it might fall apart at any moment. Harry decided against hiding there. If he was going to be caught, he would be caught standing in the center of the room bravely like a man and not cowering in a decrepit cupboard.

"Mischief managed," he said, pointing his wand at the map. He tucked it away in his robes and took out the mirror. "I'm going to be caught," he informed Ron tersely. "There's nothing you can do. You have to get away. Go back to the common room. I'll meet you there." Then he put the mirror away and placed the empty jars in the cupboard. He returned to the middle of the room just as Snape opened the door.

"Hello," Harry said, hoping he sounded more casual that he felt. He was trying to channel Sirius, but he had never had his godfather's cool head in a crisis.

Snape's face contorted in rage. "Potter!" He nearly spat. "What are you doing down here?"

Harry had a sudden flash of inspiration. "I was sleepwalking. I've only just woken up to find myself does here. I have no idea how I got here. I don't even know where 'here' is," he said quickly.

Harry could almost see the cogs spinning furiously in his professor's mind. "Do you think me an imbecile, Potter? You're fully clothed. I will ask you again, what are you doing down here?"

"I told you, I was sleepwalking. I must have fallen asleep in my robes. I've had a hard week, you know," Harry said swiftly. If he was going down, at least he would go down fighting.

Snape grabbed Harry's arm roughly. "You do not seem to understand the gravity of your situation, Potter. I know other professors laugh at your cheek and wink at your delinquency, but I can assure you that I will not." Snape gave Harry a small shake. "I do not believe anyone to be above the rules, even the boy-who-lived. You are ridiculously like your father - arrogant, pigheaded, and utterly thoughtless."

"Don't you speak that way about my father!" Harry said, jerking his arm away from Snape. "He's twice the man you are."

Snape looked for a moment as though he would like to hex Harry, but when he spoke, his voice was soft and silky. "I will ask you one more time what you are doing down here, and I expect the truth. If you lie to me again, I will turn you over to the headmaster, and trust me, Potter, if you lie to me, I shall know. What are you doing down here?"

"None of your business," Harry spat, crossing his arms over his chest. At least that wasn't a lie, he rationalized. Just then there was a crash from the Entrance Hall. Harry closed his eyes for a moment. Ron never could leave well enough alone.

"That sounded suspiciously like a diversion," Snape said, grinning cruelly. "Let's go see what we can see, shall we?" Snape took Harry's arm and marched him up the stairs to the Entrance Hall. Harry kept up a loud and steady monologue plotting their position for whomever happened to be listening and refused to shut up no matter how many times Snape told him to. When they arrived in the Entrance Hall, they found that a suit of armor had been knocked over.

"Hmm, I wonder who might have done this?" Snape said. He sounded as though he was not wondering at all.

"Must have been Peeves," Harry suggested.

"I know why you were in the dungeons, you stupid boy!" Snape said, rounding on him. "You were trying to get into the Slytherin common room, weren't you? And you had Weasley up here to save you if you got into trouble. You forget, I am familiar with your father's bullying tactics, and I am well aware that he taught you everything he knows."

"My father is not a bully," Harry insisted.

"Oh, no, of course not. Regular saint, he is!" Snape nearly shouted. "Turn out your pockets, Potter. Now."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because I would like to know what poorly-thought-out and, no doubt, completely uncreative, plot I have thwarted before I see you expelled."

His heart beating quickly, Harry did as he was told. The only thing he had was the wand and the map. He was thankful he had had the forethought to hide the jars.

"What is this?" Snape asked, snatching the map from Harry's fingers.

"Spare bit of parchment. I was studying in the library just before I went to bed."

"This looks awfully old and filthy to be a spare bit of parchment." Snape put his wand to the parchment, and Harry hoped beyond hope that he did not know the map's secret.

He did not. All he could manage to do was get the parchment to insult him in the names of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Harry made the mistake of laughing when his father's handwriting appears, calling Snape a slimeball.

"You think it's funny, do you? You truly are your father's son," Snape spat. Harry was about to open his mouth to protest when a voice came from the main staircase.

"What is going on down here?" Relief went through Harry's chest. It was Remus's voice. Then cold fear went through Harry's chest. It was Remus's voice! Remus would not be happy. Still, he would rather face Remus than Snape any day.

"You're the Defense professor," Snape said, turning to him. "What do you make of this?" He handed Remus the map. "It's clearly full of dark magic."

Remus took the map and looked at the now-fading insults that were appearing there. "Doesn't look like dark magic to me, Severus. Looks to me like a piece of parchment designed to insult whoever tries to read it. Likely a Zonko's product."

"That's right. My dad sent it to me," Harry said quickly.

Remus looked at him, his face undecipherable. "What are you doing out of bed, Harry?"

"He was trying to get into the Slytherin common room."

"I was sleepwalking."

Remus was silent for a moment, looking between them. "Come with me, Harry," he said softly.

"I was just about to take him to Professor Dumbledore," Snape said coldly.

"I'll take care of it, thank you, Severus," Remus said and, taking Harry's arm, marched him importantly away, leaving Snape standing in the Entrance Hall with nothing to do but glare and mourn his missed opportunity. The moment they were out of sight of Snape, Remus let go of Harry. "Come with me to my office," he whispered.

Harry followed Remus back to his office, not sure how to feel. He decided he would have to do something very nice for Remus soon as a thank-you for rescuing him, but he was quite sure Remus had not rescued him for the purpose of letting him off punishment. As he expected, Remus rounded on him as soon as they arrived in the office.

"What were you thinking?" Remus asked sternly.

"It was only flobberworms," Harry told him.

"Dammit, Harry! I don't care about whatever you were doing down there," Remus said, his voice low. "Where did you get this map?"

"It came from Filch's office," Harry said softly. He didn't think he had ever heard Remus swear. He was taken aback; he never would have expected Remus to be angry over his possession of the map. His mind worked furiously to put it all together, but it came up blank.

"You nicked it, I suppose?" Remus growled.

"No," Harry answered quickly. "A friend gave it to me."

"What friend?"

"I can't say."

"Can't say or won't say?"

"Won't say."

Remus looked at Harry as though sizing him up and decided to drop the matter of who had given him the map for the moment. How he had come to have it was not overly important. The fact that he had it at all and was using it so brazenly was what infuriated Remus.

"How long have you had it?" Remus asked.

"Since the second Hogsmeade trip," Harry confessed. Remus said a silent prayer of thanksgiving that Harry had inherited his father's truthfulness and sense of fair play. Like James, Harry tried not to get caught, but once he had been caught fair and square he confessed easily and accepted the punishment bravely.

"That's how you got out of the castle, isn't it?"

Harry hesitated a moment, but then nodded, dropping his gaze to the floor.

"I suppose you know who made this map?" Remus asked, brandishing it.

"Yes," Harry said, looking into Remus's face. He wanted to compliment Remus on its brilliance, but wisely decided that this was not the right time.

"And in all the time you spent talking with your father that day about Pettigrew and how dangerous he is and how careful you need to be, you never saw fit to mention this?" Remus brandished the map again.

Harry dropped his gaze again as he shrugged. "He only asked how I got out of the castle. He never asked how I found the passageway."

"Harry James Potter, I am surprised at you," Remus scolded. "You know how hard your father has been working to catch Pettigrew, do you not?"

Harry nodded slowly, still puzzling over what, exactly, had made Remus so angry.

"And I suppose it never occurred to you to think that Pettigrew knows how to use this map, and that if he were to get his hands on it, it would lead him directly to you?"

Remus could see the change in Harry's countenance as the realization hit him. His eyes grew wide and he paled visibly. Remus continued without missing a beat.

"And you know how much your parents have sacrificed - both of them - to keep you safe. Your mother gave her life for you, Harry. Her life. You obviously don't think very much of her if you're willing to gamble her sacrifice for the sake of sweets and pranks.

Harry hung his head even lower, hunching his shoulders and wrapping his arms around himself as though hugging himself. "I didn't think about that," he whispered.

Remus took a deep breath, shaking his head. When he spoke, his voice sounded tired and frustrated. "You never do think about it, Harry. You always give this great song and dance about how sorry you are and how you just weren't thinking and how it won't happen again, but then it always does. I'm not falling for it this time. You're nearly fourteen. You're going to be a man soon. You're too old to be carrying on like this. At some point, you have to start thinking about these things. I'm assigning you detention, and I'm telling your father about this."

"No, please don't!" Harry pleaded. "He'll be awfully disappointed."

"Yes, he will," Remus agreed. "And you should have thought of that before. Stay right there."

Remus tossed the map on the desk and turned his back to Harry. He went to the fireplace and, grabbing a handful of floo powder, he stepped into the fireplace. By the time he returned a few minutes later, a concerned-looking James right on his heals, Harry had lost the battle with his tears.


	27. Stars and Storms

"I'm sorry!" Harry croaked out as soon as he saw James. He practically ran across the room and threw his arms around his father. He didn't care that he was thirteen and too old to be blubbing like a baby in his father's arms. He didn't care, either, that Remus was watching the whole display. He only cared that Remus was angry, and his father was disappointed, and all he wanted was to be normal for just one day. James returned Harry's embrace.

"Come now, what are all these tears about? It isn't so bad as all that," James said softly. "Come on, now. It's all right. Shh."

Harry continued to sob brokenheartedly.

"Remus, could you give us a moment?" James asked.

Remus nodded and left James and Harry alone in his office. James held Harry tightly, worry creeping into him. Harry did not cry like this over being in trouble. Something was very, very wrong with his son. He continued to whisper soothing words in a steady stream, trying not to feel the jerks of Harry's sobs. It seemed a lifetime to James that they stood there before Harry began to calm.

"Would you like a handkerchief?" James asked him when his sobs had withered into sniffles.

Harry nodded and took the handkerchief his father gave him.

"I'm sorry," he stuttered. "I'm being an awful baby."

"No," James told him. "You've been having a very tough time of it lately. It was bound to catch up with you eventually."

"Are you angry?" Harry asked, his breath hitching.

"No," James assured him.

"Are you disappointed?"

"No, I'm not that either."

Harry took off his glasses and wiped his face with the handkerchief, blowing his nose loudly. He couldn't bear to meet his father's eyes.

James went over to the map. "We made this map our sixth year. It wasn't easy. We had to combine four different charms to do it, and we went through nine parchments before we managed to make it work." James touched his wand to it. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he said. "We were furious when Filch confiscated it. It was Wormtail's fault. He was the map-keeper, and he forgot to wipe it. I thought Sirius was going to kill him. They had a fistfight in the middle of the common room. McGonagall was furious. She banned them both from the next quidditch match, which wasn't so bad for Wormtail, really, but Sirius was our keeper. We had to get a last-minute replacement and then we lost to Ravenclaw 250-40. They almost had another fistfight when Sirius heard. Remus and I had to hold him back."

"He doesn't seem the fistfighting type," Harry said, his voice so soft James could barely hear him.

"Wormtail was good at punching his buttons. They were friends, mind you, and I think they genuinely liked each other, but it wasn't always the smoothest of relationships. Sirius used to tease Wormtail mercilessly, and every once and again he'd go too far and Wormtail would assert himself, but he wasn't very good at it so he usually made a mess of it and ended up making Sirius angry. Sirius would usually back off of him for awhile after, though. It was good for him to be reminded every once and again that Wormtail had his limits same as the rest of us."

Harry nodded, not sure what to say.

"Harry, please look at me," James said.

Harry jerked his head up. His eyes were glowing brightly, the last traces of tears still in them. His cheeks were still wet.

"What happened to upset you so much?" James asked.

"Remus said... he said..." New tears began to leak out of Harry's eyes as he remembered Remus's hurtful words. When he had finally managed to repeat them, James stepped toward him, enveloping him once again in paternal arms. Harry calmed more quickly this time and pulled away from his father's embrace. He stood miserably before the man, hanging his head.

"Remus had no right to say that to you," James said, reaching out to caress Harry's wet cheek. "None at all."

"Yes, he did," Harry said through tears. "He's right. I've been an idiot. I just get so angry sometimes! Why can't I be like everyone else?"

James sighed. He hated to see Harry like this, but he didn't know what to say to make it better. Things were so much easier when Harry was five and a glass of milk and a hug could solve all of life's problems.

"Would you like to come home for the evening?" James asked.

Harry paused in thought for a moment before nodding.

"You go on through the floo," James told him. "I'd like to have a quick word with Remus."

Harry hesitated.

"It's all right. I'll be two minutes behind you."

Harry nodded and threw some floo powder in the fireplace, shouted out his destination, and was gone.

James found Remus leaning against the wall next to the door. "He's coming home for the night," James announced. Remus only nodded. "He's very upset," James said.

"He should be. He really messed up."

"You shouldn't have brought up Lily," James said, his mouth tightening into a straight line.

"Why the hell not? It's high time he started thinking about these things," Remus retorted.

"Bloody hell, Remus! He's thirteen! He doesn't need you rubbing his nose in his dead mum!"

"I wasn't trying to rub his nose in it. I was trying to make him understand what's at stake. He's taking his life into his hands every time he sneaks around. He has to start being careful! Something had to get his attention."

"Well, you certainly got his attention," James said through gritted teeth. "You broke his heart."

Remus took a step back, stung by James's words. James felt a small thrill of joy go through him when he saw the pain on his friend's face. He had wanted to hurt the man who was responsible for Harry's tears. Before Remus could recover, James stepped into the floo and went home.

He found Harry sitting on the sofa, staring at the ground, his face pained but his eyes dry. "Would you like some tea?" James asked.

Harry nodded.

James put a kettle on and joined Harry on the sofa. "Let it go," he said softly. "You can't change it now, and Remus has the map."

Harry nodded. "Are you going to punish me?" His voice was wavering as he asked the question. He well remember that his father had promised to ban him from the quidditch team and, though he knew he deserved it, he cringed at the thought.

"No," James assured him quickly. "No, I think you've been punished enough."

Harry let out a sigh of relief and brushed angrily at a spare tear. His throat felt raw from crying so much, and he was ashamed of both his stupidity and his tears. Still, a question nagged at his brain, torturing him.

"Do you blame me for Mum dying?" Harry whispered softly.

"What?" James asked.

Harry repeated the question even more softly this time.

"No, absolutely not. Harry, don't ever think that. Voldemort killed your mother. It's his fault and his alone."

"But she sacrificed herself for me."

"If she had handed you over, it wouldn't have changed anything. She couldn't have saved herself. Voldemort had no concept of mercy. He would just as soon kill people as look at them. He probably only wanted to kill you first for the joy of getting to watch your mother's face as he did it. There is not a doubt in my mind that, even if she had given you up, she would have died anyway. And then you wouldn't be here. Your mother did the only thing she could do. She tried to protect the person she loved most in the world. And I'm quite sure she wouldn't want you feeling guilty about it. I learned a long time ago that you can't spend all your time wallowing in guilt. Remember her sacrifice. Respect her sacrifice. Honor her sacrifice. But do not blame yourself for choices that other people made about you when you were only a baby."

Harry nodded, his lower lip trembling. The tea kettle began to whistle importantly.

"I'll be right back," James told him, rising. He disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared a moment later with two cups of tea. He handed one to Harry. "It's chamomile," he announced.

"Thanks," Harry said. The heartache in his voice made James want to cry. It also made him want to floo straight back to Hogwarts and punch Remus in the face.

Harry tried to take a sip of his tea, but his hands were so shaky that he sloshed half of it down the front of his robes. "Damn!" He exclaimed as he used one hand to lift the scalding robes away from his chest and used the other to slam his teacup onto the coffee table with enough force to spill the rest of the liquid.

"Are you burned?" James asked.

"No, just wet," Harry said bitterly. "Why can't I do anything right?" He said, his frustration seething out of his voice.

"You do plenty of things right. You get high marks in all your classes. You're aces at seeking. Remus says you're best in your year at Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"And yet I can't manage to drink tea," Harry snapped, stomping to the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a cloth and began angrily mopping up his spill. When it was clean, he announced he was going to bed and stomped up the stairs. James couldn't decide whether or not to go after him.

James was still trying to decide when he heard Sirius calling his name. He fished his mirror out of his robes.

"Hi," James said.

"What is going on? Remus is in my loo practically in tears."

"We had a bit of a row."

"I had put that much together. What did you row about?"

"He said something hateful to Harry, and I called him on it. That's all."

"What did he say?"

"He insinuated that Harry is not appropriately appreciative of Lily's sacrifice," James said bluntly.

Sirius gave a long, low whistle. "Why would he say something like that?"

"He caught Harry with the original Marauder's Map."

"Are you talking to James?" Remus's voice came through the mirror. "Can I speak to him?"

"Tell him I'm not interested in speaking with him just now," James said quickly, tucking the mirror back into his robes. He ignored it when Sirius called for him and, after a few minutes, took the mirror upstairs and placed it on his nightstand, closing the door behind him so he could not be interrupted as he made his way to Harry's room. Harry was lying in bed, staring at his star-studded ceiling, tears streaming down his face. James sighed. Harry had never been much of a crier, even when he was young. James's heart broke to know how distressed his son must be to be crying this much.

James went downstairs to the floo and returned a few moments later with a potion. He took it up to Harry's room.

"What is it?" Harry asked skeptically, turning onto his side to face James.

"It's a calming draught. It'll make you feel better."

"I don't need it. I can calm down on my own."

"Harry, go on and drink it. It'll help."

"I don't want it," Harry said emphatically. "Just leave me alone."

"Harry--"

"Just leave me alone, I said!" Harry shouted. "I don't want to be calmed or cheered up. I just want to be by myself." He flopped quickly onto his other side, turning his back on his dad.

James nodded, setting the potion down. "It's here on the nightstand, in case you change your mind."

"I won't change my mind."

James left wordlessly, closing the door behind him. He suspected Harry would calm on his own in a bit and come down to apologize for shouting. James wasn't the slightest bit angry with him, although he felt he should say something about Harry's use of a swear word. Still, he was a little flattered that Harry was able to let his guard down enough in his presence to use a swear word at all. James was seventeen before he ever slipped in front of his father.

James went to the library. It was close enough to Harry's room that he would hear him if he called, but it wouldn't look like he was hovering if Harry decided to come looking for him. When Harry was younger and had been sent to his room for punishment, James used to sit in the library the whole time, staring at the clock and waiting impatiently for the moment he could spring the boy. When Harry was very young, he would cry, and each sob would pull at James's heartstrings, making the ordeal much harder for him than it was for Harry.

It was nearly an hour later when Harry called for him. "Dad?"

James was there in a flash, sitting next to him on the bed. Harry's tears were dry, but he still looked miserable. The calming draught was still on the nightstand, untouched.

"I'm sorry for shouting at you," Harry began.

"Don't give it a second thought," James said quickly, reaching out to move a spare piece of hair off Harry's forehead.

"And I'm sorry for swearing."

"I was younger than you when I started using language like that," James admitted. "Just try to keep it to a minimum, okay, Kiddo? I always thought swearing was mostly born out of a lack of creativity. That's not to say I don't do it sometimes, but I have much more fun using words that no one expects. I remember once, when I was about your age, I messed up my spell in Transfiguration, and I forgot myself for a moment and shouted out, 'Merlin's bum crack!' Then, of course, I knew I was for it with McGonagall, but she started laughing and couldn't stop. She tried to lecture me, but she kept having to stop to laugh. I'm sure she wouldn't have been so amused if I'd said 'damn'."

"Probably not," Harry said, the smallest smile appearing on his face. "I don't think I ever envisioned her having a sense of humor."

"I never did much, either, but Sirius assured me she does."

"Are you angry with Remus?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Maybe a little," James confessed. "He never should have said that to you."

"He's right, though," Harry said softly, his eyes brimming once again with tears. "I haven't been careful, and I know I should be. I just want to be normal."

"I know you do," James said sympathetically. "And someday soon we'll catch Pettigrew and things will go back to how they were."

"But I still won't be normal. I'll still be the bloody boy-who-lived. Everyone expects me to do so much, and I'm nobody. I'm just me."

"You are most certainly not nobody. You've already done more than most wizards do in a lifetime. Did you know that the Flumes contacted me over the summer and asked me if they could put you on a chocolate frog card?"

"Really," Harry asked.

"Sure did. It was only a few days after you killed the basilisk. I wasn't ready to celebrate it just yet, so I told them no. But they don't put just put anyone on those things. They certainly don't put nobodies on them."

Harry smiled a little. "That would have been wicked to be on a chocolate frog card. I could have collected myself."

"Wouldn't do much to lower people's expectations of you, though."

"That's true," Harry agreed. "But it still would have been wicked."

"Well, once you come of age, it'll be your decision to make, so you can tell them you want on if they ask."

"But not until then?" Harry asked.

"No, I think I'd rather you languish in obscurity for the moment."

"Of course," Harry agreed. "You know me. I like the quiet life."

James laughed and ran a finger down Harry's cheek. "I'm glad to see you smiling," he said.

Harry nodded. "I feel better. Please don't be too cross with Remus."

"Remus and I will be fine. It's not the first time we've had a row, and I doubt it'll be the last."

"I don't want you arguing with him on my account," Harry muttered.

"It wasn't your fault, and I don't want you worrying about it. People don't get to be friends as long as Remus and I without learning how to put arguments behind them."

Harry nodded.

"I was wondering if you'd like to stay here for the weekend. We can do something fun tomorrow. Maybe even go to London."

"That sounds great," Harry agreed.

"You should get some rest. It's awfully late," James said, running his fingers through Harry's hair.

"Night, Dad," Harry said softly.

"Good night, Harry," James said, standing. He turned off the light and shut the door and made his way to his own room. The mirror was empty when he got there and he was glad for it. He was still not quite ready to hear Remus's apologies.


	28. Friendship and Forgiveness

_Author's Note: I know I don't say this enough: thank you, thank you, thank you for all of your wonderful reviews and adds and favorites. You all really inspire me. I had a really icky week on both the work and home fronts, and every time I felt like I wanted to just quit my job and run off to join a commune, I would go back and read all the sweet things you have said and feel better. I honestly cherish each and every kind and encouraging thing any of you have said, and I probably wouldn't still be writing if it weren't for you. My hat is off to all of you. A bit of a short chapter for you today. As I said, rough week. We're on the home stretch now, though, and I'm really excited for the final few chapters of this story. I hope all of you are as well._

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"James! Oi! James!" Sirius's voice floated into James's dreams. James groaned and rolled over in his bed. The voice was coming from the mirror he had left on the nightstand. He grabbed it.

"What do you want?" He asked groggily.

"I wanted to know if you're still not speaking to me."

"I wasn't ever not speaking to you. Now let me sleep."

"It's nearly eleven!" Sirius insisted. "And you were so not speaking to me. What would you call it when you shout for a chap and he locks you in his bedroom? Your ceiling is terribly uninteresting. Did you know?"

"I wasn't not speaking to you. I was busy talking to Harry."

"Speaking of Harry, apparently there was quite a commotion in the Slytherin common room this morning, and Snape seems to think Harry's responsible. He's on the warpath. He made rather a scene in the staff room this morning. Something about flobberworms everywhere. I didn't really follow, but when I tried to get him to calm down, he started raving at me about spiders. I told him I'd never seen a spider before in my life, and didn't have a clue what he was talking about."

James tried not to smile. He recalled once filling Snape's bed with big black spiders. They had intended it to be a prank, but then Snape actually climbed into bed with the horrid things without looking and ended up covered in them. James thought the whole thing quite funny until he learned that Snape had been chewed to bits.

He felt even worse when they were found out, and McGonagall gave all four marauders the cane. James hated getting the cane, but he didn't hate it nearly as much as he hated watching his friends get it, especially Remus. He always seemed to take it so personally. He would cry as though his heart were breaking. The worst part of the whole fiasco, however, was when Remus decided that James and Sirius were at fault for the whole thing and refused to speak to them for almost two weeks. James and Sirius were terrified that they had ruined the friendship.

The guilt settled into James's stomach like a ton of bricks. He could still remember how awful he felt when he thought Remus would never forgive him, and here he had done the exact same thing to Remus last night.

"Have you seen Remus?"

"Yes, I saw him at breakfast. He's a touch worried that you're not going to forgive him."

"Tell him I'm sorry for being such a stubborn ass, and that I'll come give him a proper apology tomorrow when I bring Harry back."

"You can tell him yourself. He's right here."

"Oh, all right. Well, hand me over then."

Remus's face appeared a moment later. "Hello," he said softly.

"Listen, Moony, I'm not going to say that I agree with what you said to Harry. I still think it was an awful thing to have said, but I know you only had his best interests at heart."

"How's he faring?"

"I got him calmed down. He'll be fine. Children are very resilient. Toward the end, I think he was actually more worried about the two of us than about himself."

"That would be like him. Always putting everyone else first. He really is a wonderful boy. I never meant to hurt him."

"I know you didn't, and I really do think he'll get over it, if he isn't already."

Remus nodded, looking as though he would like to say more.

"You know, for someone so smart, he certainly is an idiot sometimes, isn't he?" James asked.

"Yes," Remus agreed. "I about wanted to throttle him last night."

"Let me guess. You think he should have had the cane?"

"No, I don't think that. I never really thought that, even that day in Hogsmeade. Truth be told, if someone actually tried to cane Harry, I'd probably be tempted to punch them."

"You're all talk. You never punched anyone in your life," Sirius's voice wafted through the mirror.

Remus looked away from the mirror. "I could if someone were threatening Harry!" He said defensively.

"That's enough, children!" James said, smiling. "I should get going anyway. Harry and I were planning to go to London today, so I had better be getting ready. I'll see you tomorrow. Tell Sirius bye from me."

"Sure thing," Remus said, sounding relieved. "See you."

James made his way down the stairs and found Harry sitting on the sofa playing with a moving quidditch set Remus had given him for Christmas a few years before.

"Morning," he said when he saw James.

"Good morning," James said. "Did you sleep well?"

Harry nodded. "It took me forever to fall asleep, but once I did I slept like the dead. I don't think I even had any dreams. You?"

"I slept well until Sirius woke me up bellowing through my mirror like a maniac. I'll have you know that Remus and I have made up, by the way."

Harry looked, if possible, even more relieved than Remus. "I'm glad. I hated to think of you arguing on my account."

"For the record, we weren't arguing on your account. You just happened to be caught in the middle of it."

Harry shrugged.

"So, do you still want to go to London?" James asked.

Harry nodded.

"I see you're all ready to go."

Harry nodded again. "I was just trying to decide if I should come wake you."

"I'll get ready as quickly as I can. Have you had breakfast?"

"I had some toast."

"Let's start with lunch, then. I could kill for a cheeseburger."

Harry and James passed a lovely day taking in the London sights and finished that evening with Indian food.

"So, who's this girl you're interested in?" James asked Harry over dinner.

Harry felt his face grow hot. "I'm not interested in any girls."

"Oh, so you making eyes at the Ravenclaw seeker was a figment of my imagination, eh?"

Harry felt his face grow hotter. His cheeks felt suddenly tight.

"Her name's Cho," Harry admitted, blushing furiously. "Cho Chang."

Harry took a too-big bite of his curry. His eyes watered from the heat of it as he tried to force it down. He began to cough and sputter.

"Drink your water. It'll help," James told him.

"So, are you going to ask her out?" James asked when Harry had caught his breath.

Harry shook his head, his eyes wide. "I couldn't. She'd never go out with me."

"Why not? Looked to me like she was making eyes back at you the other day."

Harry ducked his head, a goofy grin on his face. "Was she? I didn't notice."

James's mouth turned down at the corners as he tried not to smile.

Harry deflated. "I don't have anywhere to take her. Usually, people go to Hogsmeade together, but since I can't go..."

"Your mother and I had some delightful dates right on the grounds. We spent an entire Saturday together once. Right after breakfast, we went down to the lake to tease the giant squid and skip rocks. When we got hungry, I showed her how to sneak down to the kitchens, and we got the house elves to pack us a picnic lunch, which we ate under the trees. Then we spent the afternoon wandering around the greenhouses, and I picked her a bunch of flowers. We finished the evening on the Astronomy tower watching the sunset and stargazing. We actually saw a shooting star. She told me later that that was the moment she realized she was in love with me."

"I'll have to think about it," Harry said.

"On second thought, you might be right. Thirteen's far too young to have a girlfriend."

"I'm going to be fourteen soon."

"Not for another five months, and you don't want to rush it. Once time is gone, it's gone for good. The day may come when you wish you could have these years back."

Harry shrugged and ran his fork through his curry.

"On a slightly different note, I heard there was a bit of a commotion in the Slytherin common room this morning. You wouldn't have had anything to do with that, would you?"

Harry perked up and spent the rest of the meal animatedly telling his father about his prank.

"We shall call it 'The Great Flobberworm Caper of '94' and it shall go down in the annals of history as one of Hogwarts' greatest pranks," James said, laughing, as Harry finished the story.

"I wish I could have been there for the ruckus," Harry said.

"Oh, maybe not. I heard Snape was not amused. Letting him get some distance before he sees you again might be good for you. Even so, I think you're going to be spending some quality time in detention for the next week or so."

"Oh, well, it was worth it," Harry said with a shrug.

"I usually thought so," James agreed, "and it was a good idea."

"I was originally going to do spiders, but Ron's scared of them," Harry announced.

"It's probably a good thing you didn't. Snape would probably be even more furious if you had. Might've given him flashbacks to the time I dumped spiders in his bed."

Harry's gaze took on a dreamy quality. "I wish I could have seen that."

"It wasn't pretty, from what I heard. He ended up crawling into bed without looking and got bitten more times than anyone could count. I'm told it was quite amusing watching Slughorn trying to get him free of them. All the Slytherins came to watch the fun, and Snape wouldn't stand still, so Slughorn cast petrificus totalus on him and started summoning the spiders and trying to catch them in jars as they flew through the air. He wasn't a very good catch, though, so most of the spiders went flying into the crowd of Slytherins, and then, of course, they all went running about and screaming like banshees. Total pandemonium. We heard the screams all the way in Gryffindor."

"I'm sure flobberworms didn't cause all that much trouble. They're mostly just slimy."

"Which is why it was a better prank in the long run. I felt awful about it when I found out Snape got hurt. Then, we ended up in all sorts of trouble. More than it was worth, really. McGonagall usually looked the other way so long as what we had done wasn't dangerous or cruel, but she didn't have much patience with us when we crossed the line. You really don't want to be on her bad side. She's bloody terrifying when she's angry."

Harry nodded knowingly. "Do you think Remus will really give me detention?"

"Did he tell you he was giving you detention?"

"Yes, but that was before I... before you came."

"If he said he was planning to give you detention, then he probably will. Sirius says that professors have to learn very quickly how to be immune to tears."

"I suppose," Harry said, stabbing his fork absentmindedly at the last few bites on his plate.

"We don't need to worry about detention just now, Kiddo. Worry about that tomorrow. Today we're having fun. Would you like dessert?"

"I don't think I could eat another bite," Harry said, putting both hands on his stomach.

"That's the whole purpose of dessert. You can't eat another bite, but it's so good you can't stop, and then you lie on the floor and moan. You have to learn to take pleasure in the small things in life, Harry. That's where the real quality is."

Harry smiled. "How about we get ice cream in a bit, then?"

"Okay, but I'm holding you to that!" James agreed.

Sunday went by far too quickly for Harry, and all too soon he found himself standing by the floo in Sirius's quarters, saying his goodbyes to his dad. James stayed behind to talk to Remus and Sirius, and Harry began making his way to his common room to start on his piles of homework.

"Harry," Remus called, trotting after him when he was nearly to the stairs. Harry turned. "About your detention," Remus said meaningfully. Harry took a deep breath. He had been expecting this. "I think Snape's going to be keeping you quite busy the next several days, and I don't reckon you need more detentions on top of his." Remus's mouth twitched as dawning broke on Harry's face.

"Thanks," he said.

"And about what I said to you. I didn't mean it. I was just upset, and I wanted you to start being careful."

"No," Harry said, slowly, "I think you were right. I'm going to start being careful. For real this time."

"Good, I'm glad to hear that. I'll see you in class."

"See you," Harry said, then he turned and bounded to the common room to hear all about how the Slytherins had reacted to the flobberworms.


	29. Pains and Picnics

Beta'd by LauraWinter

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The next day, Harry and Ron made their way to Divination as usual. Harry was tempted to skive, but Ron insisted that if he had to go, Harry had to suffer through it with him.

"Why don't you skive as well?" Harry asked at breakfast, carefully avoiding the glares Snape was shooting at him from the staff table. He had already decided to skive off Potions the next day. Bravery of a Gryffindor or not, he did not want to face Snape's wrath.

"And risk my mother finding out? Not on your life!" Ron replied.

"How would she find out?" Harry asked. "It's not like they send notes home every time you miss a class."

"She'd find out. She always finds out. Don't you remember that time I tried to keep a gnome as a pet? I never did figure out how she found out about that, but she did."

Harry nodded. Ron had been eight and decided to keep a gnome he caught while degnoming the garden at the Burrow. Harry came over to visit for the day and Ron showed it to him proudly. A few days later, he received a very distressed letter from Ron saying that his mum had found it and forced him to get rid of it. His only solace was that it had bitten her before she tossed it outside. Harry happened to know that Percy had been the one to inform their mother about the gnome, but he wasn't about to tell Ron that.

"I still miss that little guy," Ron finished sadly. "He was much better than Shadow." Shadow was Ron's decrepit cat. He didn't do much besides sleep and whiz on Ron's bed. At the beginning of the school year, Ron had decided he was tired of his bed always smelling and had left Shadow at home to whiz on his parents' bed instead.

"The one I always wondered about was the time we stole the broomsticks. How did they even know where we were?" Harry asked. That particular time, Ron had been seven and Harry six, and they were playing outside. Despite Molly, Arthur, and James having repeatedly warned them not to, they had decided to try out the Weasleys' broomsticks. They had just got out of the shed with them when Molly and James came flying out of the house, both shouting at the top of their voices. They confiscated the broomsticks, and then Molly immediately marched Ron into the house, smacking him all the while. Harry was sure James was going to smack him as well, but he didn't. However, he did promise that he would if Harry ever touched an adult's broomstick without permission again. Several months later, Harry tested the promise and found to his chagrin that James was quite willing to make good on it.

"I have an answer for that one. Bill saw us from the window."

"We have the worst luck. We always get caught," Harry said, shaking his head.

"You could try following the rules," Hermione suggested. "Then it wouldn't be an issue."

"Where's the fun in that?" Ron asked.

"So, are you going to skive?" Harry asked, reclaiming the conversation.

"No, he isn't, and neither are you," Hermione said bossily. Then she stood quickly. "I have to go to the library. I'll see you there."

"Why are we friends with her?" Ron asked bitterly when she was gone.

They had been arguing much more than usual lately, and Harry was beginning to feel fed up with it. He shot Ron a withering look. "Because we like her," he said.

"I suppose," Ron said, stabbing at the cold eggs on his plate just to give himself something to do.

In Divination, Trelawney insisted that Harry's palm indicated he was in severe danger of being eaten by a thestral in his fourteenth year of life.

Hermione huffed loudly.

"You have something you'd like to say, my dear?" Trelawney asked, sounding annoyed. Harry thought it might have been the first time he ever saw her forget to put on her show for even an instant.

"I think you made that up," Hermione challenged.

Harry and Ron gaped at her. She had never contradicted a teacher before.

"You will forgive me, my dear, for saying so, but you have no gift for seeing. Your mind is too clouded by the mundane for you to ever appreciate the subtleties of this art."

"If being logical and truthful makes me ill-suited for this _art_, then I'm proud for it," Hermione snapped. "And I won't waste my time with it anymore!" Without another word, she rose and stormed out of the trapdoor. The entire class jumped as it slammed.

"You will find, my dears, that there are some who simply have no talent for this subject, and in those cases, there is little I can do."

"Hermione, what were you thinking?" Ron whispered to her before Astronomy began. "You can't just quit a class in the middle of the term."

"Actually, I can. I already spoke to McGonagall about it, and she was supportive. It's not like I'm not taking enough other classes."

"Can I quit, too?" Harry asked.

"You'll have to take that up with McGonagall yourself," Hermione told him.

"You should have seen her after you left," Ron whispered. "She kept going on about 'Some people don't have the talent and there's nothing I can do for them. Oh, woe is me! It's so hard to be so talented!'"

Harry snickered at Ron's perfect impression of her breathless delivery.

"Open your books, please," Sirius's voice interrupted them, effectively ending the conversation. They knew better than to talk in Sirius's class.

In Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid informed them dully that Buckbeak's trial had been set for the first Saturday in April. They still hadn't found much to help him and felt a touch guilty that they had let the project fall to the wayside in recent weeks. They spent most of the evening in the library, continuing their fruitless search for anything that might help Buckbeak.

"Maybe we should just griffnap him," Ron suggested.

"Sure, because Hagrid wouldn't be blamed or anything if we did that," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"I don't see you coming up with any better ideas," Ron snapped.

"Would you two just stop it!" Harry said, not sure where his sudden urge of annoyance was coming from. He slammed the book he was reading shut and stormed from the library, so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't even see Cho Chang until he bumped into her, knocking her to the ground.

"Sorry," he said, blushing furiously. He gave her a hand up. "Are you hurt?" Harry asked.

"No, I'm fine," she assured him. "I've had worse falls in quidditch practice.

"Oh," Harry said nervously. "You play really well. You're a good flyer."

"Thanks," she said. She began to pick at her robes. Harry kicked at the floor with his shoe.

"Well, see you later," Cho said.

"Yeah, later," Harry repeated dully.

Cho turned and walked away, glancing back at Harry only once before she was out of sight.

Then Harry kicked himself. That had been a perfect opportunity. "Cho!" He called. He didn't remember making the decision to call out to her. Without realizing he was doing it, he began running after her. "Hey, Cho!" Harry rounded the corner and straight into her, knocking her to the ground again. She started to laugh.

"We have to stop meeting like this," she said.

Harry laughed, too, but his laughter was borne more from nerves than real amusement. He gave her a hand again, wishing his palms weren't so sweaty. When she stood, Harry looked at her shoes. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands. He thrust them into his pockets.

"Listen, Cho, I was wondering if maybe, well, if maybe you wanted to, erm..."

"I'd love to," Cho told him, rushing to fill the awkward silence.

"Really?" Harry asked, relief flooding through him.

"I thought you'd never ask me," she said, smiling.

Harry blushed. "So, next Hogsmeade weekend?"

"I'd love to accompany you," she said.

"Oh, erm, well, I can't exactly go to Hogsmeade. I was thinking maybe we could do something on the grounds. Have a picnic or something." It had sounded so good when his father described it. Now it just sounded stupid. Honestly, who took a girl on a picnic for their first date?

"A picnic sounds lovely," she said.

Harry smiled. "Great. Next Hogsmeade weekend then." He turned to leave, but then he felt he ought to do something to say goodbye, so he went back to her and shook her hand enthusiastically. "See you later," he told her, then he ran back to the library to tell Ron and Hermione the good news, leaving Cho standing bewildered in the middle of the corridor.

"I asked Cho out!" Harry announced when he got back to the library.

"Quiet!" Madame Pince, the librarian, barked at him.

"You asked her out?" Ron asked.

"This is not the place for conversations," Madame Pince scolded in a whisper. "If you're just going to chat, go back to your common room."

"Harry, that's great!" Hermione whispered approvingly when Madame Pince had gone. "She's a very nice person."

"And not bad to look at," Ron added.

"That's not the most important thing, Ronald," Hermione whispered bossily. Harry thought she must be the only person in the world who could even be bossy in whispers.

"Says the girl who fancies the best-looking professor in the school," Ron snapped.

Hermione blushed furiously. "I don't fancy him," she said, forgetting to whisper. "I grew out of that ages ago."

"Out!" Madame Pince told them, sailing over to their table. "Out! Out! Out!"

"I was just leaving anyway," Hermione said. She picked up her book and went to the desk to check it out.

"Why do you have to do that?" Harry asked Ron.

Ron shrugged. "She deserved it."

Harry shook his head, but not even Ron and Hermione's squabbling could sink his spirits.

Snape, however, could.

Harry decided he would have to face Snape eventually and went timidly to Potions the next day. Throughout the entire class, he kept waiting for the explosion, but it never came. Rather, Snape ignored him completely.

"You will stay behind, Potter," Snape said silkily before dismissing the class.

Harry stared resolutely at his cauldron as Snape stalked toward him. When he reached Harry, he put his face inches from Harry's. Harry leaned away uncomfortably.

"You may have the rest of the staff fooled, Potter," Snape said in a stiff undertone. "But I have no intention of letting you continue to get away with your abysmal behavior."

"I - I don't know what you mean," Harry said.

"Sleepwalking, Potter!" Snape stormed. "You really expected me to believe that?"

Harry wasn't sure what to say, so he said nothing.

"You really are just like your father."

Harry tried to imagine it had been a compliment. From anyone else, it would have been.

"Tell me, did he even attempt to stop your flaunting of the rules, or did he just congratulate you for following in his ludicrously arrogant footsteps?"

"My father is not arrogant!" Harry snapped. "You don't even know him!"

"Spare me the outrage, Potter. I know him far better than you think I do. You will join me for detention every evening for the next two weeks. Now get out of my sight."

Harry picked up his satchel and fled the dungeons. He sat angrily at the Gryffindor table and began filling his plate.

"How bad was it?" Ron asked.

"Two weeks' detention," Harry reported blandly. "That's about what I expected. Only I wish he could talk to me just once without insulting my dad."

Harry cut into a piece of chicken angrily.

"He's just jealous, mate," Ron said encouragingly. "On account of people actually like your dad."

"Somehow, I don't think that's it," Harry said glumly.

They finished their meal in an uncomfortable silence and then made their way to Defense, where Snape was standing in front of the class.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" Harry said.

"Afraid not, Potter," Snape sneered. "Believe me, I'd rather be anywhere else. Having you in class once is more than enough punishment for one day."

Harry hadn't even realized that the full moon was approaching. He turned and walked out of the class. He had already faced Snape once today. Surely no one could expect more of him than that. He didn't care if it earned him more detention: he was skiving. Hermione ran up behind him and grabbed his arm. He spun to face her, his gaze murderous.

"If you leave, he wins," she said simply. Harry stood in the corridor, breathing heavily. After a few moments, he inclined his head and went back into the classroom.

"Finished with your temper tantrum, then, Potter?" Snape asked.

"It wasn't a temper tantrum. I thought I dropped my quill."

Harry sat in his seat and spent the rest of the lesson writing a furious letter to his father that he knew he'd never send.

The next Hogsmeade weekend was three Saturdays later. The weather was beginning to warm, and the flowers were beginning to bloom, filling the air around Hogwarts with sweet fragrances.

"I just love Spring, don't you?" Hermione said at breakfast that morning.

"It's nice, I guess," Ron said with a shrug, reaching for the bacon.

"Should be a lovely day for a picnic," Hermione said.

"Ugh, don't remind me," Harry groaned. He was a bundle of nerves; it was worse than the morning of a quidditch match. "Maybe I should just lock myself in the dormitory."

"Just be yourself, Harry. She'll think you're great." Hermione encouraged.

"Yeah, mate. Just do something funny." Ron suggested.

"What if I can't think of anything funny?"

"Don't put so much pressure on yourself," Hermione told him. "Just be natural."

"Be natural. Got it," Harry said. He turned to glance at Cho. She smiled at him and waved. He waved back, very aware of how stupid his fingers looked, splayed out in a wave. "This is a terrible idea." He groaned. "I'm going to run away to Australia."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We have to go. Good luck."

Students began to file out of the Great Hall. Harry walked over to Cho. "Erm, shall we meet at eleven-thirty?"

"I'll be there," she replied.

"Eleven-thirty, then. In the Entrance Hall. See you then," Harry said in a rush. Then he turned and practically ran out of the Great Hall.

At the staff table, Sirius and Remus were nearly doubled up with laughter. "That kid is going to have to learn to be cool under pressure," Sirius told Remus as they rose to make their own way to Hogsmeade.

Harry fled to the Gryffindor common room and flopped down on a sofa. He put his head between his knees, feeling like he might sick up.

He felt the sofa dip as someone sat down next to him. "Are you all right?" The someone asked.

Harry looked up. It was Ginny.

"I'm an idiot," Harry told her.

"Why?"

"I asked Cho Chang to have a picnic."

"I know."

"How do you know?"

Ginny shrugged. "Everyone knows. Cho told all her friends, and they told all their friends. I found out about it about ten minutes after you asked her out."

"Oh," Harry said stupidly, not sure what else to say. "I never should have done it. She's going to think I'm an idiot. A picnic? What was I thinking?"

"I think it's sweet. All the girls do. I'll bet you anything picnics start getting popular after this."

"Not bloody likely," Harry moaned. "The whole school's probably laughing at me!"

"Were you not listening, Harry? All the girls think it's sweet."

"They're just saying that out of pity."

"If they were saying it to you, maybe, but they're saying it to each other. Just yesterday I heard Melissa Cuthbert saying she wishes her boyfriend would take her on a picnic, and she's the prettiest girl in school. It was creative, Harry. Anyone can go to Madame Puddifoot's. You've shown that you care enough about Cho to really put some thought into it."

Harry perked up a little. "Is that really what the picnic shows?"

Ginny nodded. "I wish a boy would care about me that much."

"Did you have any particular boy in mind?" Harry asked slyly.

"Oh, there's someone, but he's already got a girlfriend," Ginny replied.

"Well, maybe they'll break up and he'll realize he's an idiot not to be going out with you."

"Let's hope so," Ginny replied.

"Are you sure the picnic doesn't just say that I'm banned from Hogsmeade?" Harry asked, his mind back on his upcoming date.

"You know what you need? A distraction. Come on. Let's go throw dungbombs into the Library."

"No, then I'll stink for my date."

"And you can't take a shower?"

"Well, I suppose I could. Yeah, okay. Let's go."

It wasn't long after that they ran back into the common room, breathless and giggling, the tell-tale smell of dungbombs on their hands.

"Do you think Cho likes throwing dungbombs?" Harry asked.

Ginny's smile faded. "I don't know. I really don't know her that well. You should go get ready."

Harry walked away, wondering what could have caused Ginny's mood to change so quickly.

Harry showered and put on clean robes, combing his hair and wishing that for once it would just lie flat. He looked at himself in the mirror and decided he looked stupid, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He went downstairs and found Ginny on the sofa. "How do I look?" He asked her.

"Very handsome," she said, reaching out to straighten his robes. "Any girl would be proud to have you."

Harry nodded. "Thanks, see you."

"See you."

Harry reached the portrait hole and turned back toward her. She was looking at him with an odd expression on her face. "Ginny?"

"Yes?" She said, her face breaking into an expectant smile.

"Thanks for talking to me this morning. It really made me feel better. I had a great time."

"Me, too." She said.

"Well, bye." Harry said awkwardly, lifting his hand into a wave. He had never noticed before how beautiful Ginny's hair was in the light from the tower windows.

"Bye," Ginny said, returning the wave. "I hope you have fun."

Harry smiled and turned, ready for his first date.


	30. Worms and Woes

_Author's Note: For anyone who's interested, and hasn't already found it on their own. I recently published the first chapter of a companion piece for this series, called "Not For Anything: The Marauders' Tale". It's going to follow the Marauders' school days, and possibly beyond. I've had so much fun doing the flashback chapters (and received so much positive feedback on them as well) that I decided to do a whole story of them. As always, thanks for all the feedback and encouragement. I counted it up in my head today, and I think I've got four more chapters. Thanks for sticking with me, everyone!  
_

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Harry and Cho sat contentedly together on top of the Astronomy Tower holding hands and watching the stars. Harry had many happy memories of sitting up here with Sirius when he was younger as Sirius pointed out different stars and constellations. They had begun their date chatting about quidditch. That took them through most of the afternoon. They went through their other interestes much more quickly and then moved on to school gossip.

Cho was full of information, but Harry had little to offer, so he listened. He learned more about the girls at Hogwarts that day than he had ever cared to know. He was amazed by how much they all seemed to know about one another. He was beginning to wonder if they operated on some sort of hive mentality.

Cho finished her story about Marietta Edgecombe and looked over at Harry to see if he was listening. He gave her a shy smile, which she returned.

"It's going to be curfew soon," he said.

"Yes, I suppose we should be going."

"I'll walk you to your common room," he offered.

"Thank you," she said.

The both stood and faced one another awkwardly. Harry wasn't sure what to do now. It seemed he should do more than just turn around and start walking toward the door.

"You look very pretty," he told her.

"Thank you," she said.

They grew silent once more. He took both her hands in his.

She smiled, and he blushed. Then, behind Harry, the door opened. He spun around quickly.

"All right, you two. It's nearly curfew!"

Sirius's voice sounded gruffer than Harry was used to hearing it, and his face was stern. Harry looked at Cho, who shrugged. He couldn't decide if he was annoyed that Sirius was breaking up their date. As soon as they stepped into the light from the door, however, it became apparent that Sirius had not known it was Harry on the tower.

"Pronglet?" Sirius asked.

"What?" Cho asked.

"Professor Black is a family friend," Harry explained. "He's sort of my godfather, actually. He calls me Pronglet."

"That's a strange thing to call a person. Why does he call you that?" Cho asked.

"Because I call his dad Prongs," Sirius explained.

"Why do you call his dad that?" Cho asked.

Sirius shrugged. "It fits him," he said. "Now get inside, and go straight to your common rooms. If I find out you didn't, I'll turn you both into lime llamas."

"He doesn't mean that, you know," Harry whispered to Cho when they were out of earshot. "He never really transfigures people."

"I know," she whispered back. "He threatened to turn my whole class into marigold bunnies a few months ago."

"I was the one who gave him the idea for that," Harry told her.

"He seems like he'd be fun to have as a godfather. Sort of strict, though."

Harry shook his head. "He isn't, outside of the classroom."

They walked in silence to the Ravenclaw common room. Not knowing what else to do, He lifted her hand to his face and kissed it. He felt a small thrill go through him, impressed by his own daring. Then he turned and walked back to his own common room, arriving there only a few minutes after curfew.

Hermione assaulted him as soon as he was through the portrait hole. "How was your date?"

"You were certainly gone long enough," Ron grouched. "I was hoping to play wizard's chess."

Hermione shot him a withering look. "Come tell us about it," she said, tugging him to an empty sofa. Harry told them about his day. Ron rolled his eyes several times.

"Will you ask her out again?" Hermione asked.

"I have to ask her out again?" Harry replied. "I thought I was finished with that. Aren't we a couple now?"

"No, you have to go on more dates, and you're not a couple until you ask her if she wants to be."

"I didn't know there were this many rules," Harry said, furrowing his brow.

Hermione began to explain dating protocol to Harry in painful detail.

After a few minutes had gone by and her monologue had not stopped, Ron interrupted her. "You mind if we play chess while you talk?" He asked.

"Oh, go ahead and play," she said. "I should be doing homework anyway."

"On a Saturday night?" Harry asked. "That's a bit much, even for you."

"Well, Buckbeak's trial is Monday, and I've been spending so much time helping Hagrid that I've been neglecting my work."

Harry was overcome by a sudden surge of affection for her. "Hermione, you're pretty wonderful. You know that?"

Hermione blushed. "Thank you," she said. "I know I'm annoying sometimes."

"Everyone's annoying sometimes," Harry told her.

"I'm not," Ron inserted.

"What can I do to help you with the trial?" Harry asked, ignoring Ron.

"I've been researching. I've found loads of cases that might help. I'm trying to make a list for Hagrid now, so he can quote the cases. You want to help me organize my notes?"

"Sure," Harry agreed.

"What about chess?" Ron asked.

"Maybe another time," Harry said. "You could help, you know."

"Oh, all right. I suppose the chess will be there after Buckbeak wins the trial."

"Do you really think he'll win?" Hermione asked.

"How can he not, with you organizing his defense?" Ron said.

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, hugging him. They came apart quickly and stood next to one another awkwardly.

"So, my notes," Hermione said in a rush.

"Right, notes," Ron agreed, just as rushed.

Harry stood beside them glancing back and forth between them, sure he had just witnessed something significant, but not entirely sure what. He decided that life was entirely too confusing lately.

The trio was nervous on Monday. They met Hagrid in the Great Hall at breakfast to wish him luck. He was wearing an awful hairy, brown suit and had clearly attempted to comb his hair. Bits of comb were still stuck in it. Hagrid thanked them for all of their help when they handed him the list of cases and promised to send them an owl as soon as the trial was over.

None of them could concentrate in their classes all day. They kept watching the skies out the classroom windows, hoping to see an owl heading their way.

"What is so exciting outside that window, you three?" Sirius asked, exasperated, after asking them three times to please pay attention. "Are we about to be attacked by dragons?"

"What?" Harry said, snapping to attention. "No, no dragons."

"A pride of chimeras?"

"No, none of those, either."

"What, then, Mr. Potter? What out there could possibly be so important?"

"Hagrid promised to send us an owl about Buckbeak's trial," Harry explained.

"I don't think staring out the window is going to make it come faster," Sirius said gently. "Although, I suppose it does have the advantage that you'll be able to warn us if the dragons do decide to attack."

"I don't think any dragons are going to attack," Harry told him.

"Well, that's heartening," Sirius responded. "I was starting to get worried." Around the room, students were snickering at the exchange. Sirius turned his attention back to them. "All right, class of mine, as I was saying... what was I saying?" The snickers increased.

"You were telling us about the moons of Jupiter," Lavender Brown reminded him.

"Yes, thank you!" Sirius said. "Jupiter has at least seventeen moons, and there may well be more. You know, I always thought it would be terribly interesting to live on a planet with more than one moon. I always thought it must be awfully pretty."

Harry raised his hand. "Do you think werewolves on Jupiter would transform whenever any of the moons are full?"

"You know, I never thought about that," Sirius said. "I suppose if we ever find werewolves on Jupiter, we'll have to ask them. Now back to our lesson. The four largest moons were discovered by Gallileo in 1610."

Harry continued to stare out of the window and heard no more of Sirius's lecture.

The promised owl did not arrive until dinnertime. Harry was surprised when it was addressed in his father's writing. Harry ripped it open and the three of them leaned in to read it together.

It explained gently that Buckbeak lost the trial before it ever began, but that James was very proud of the three of them for all the work they put into it. It also instructed them not to worry over Hagrid, as he was with friends. Harry glanced up at the staff table and noticed the pronounced absence of Sirius and Remus. He smiled despite his sadness. If anyone could cheer Hagrid up, the Marauders could.

Hagrid was subdued in their next class. Sirius showed up halfway through it under the guise of taking a walk to clear his head. Harry wasn't fooled. He knew Sirius was checking up on his friend. He stayed for the rest of the class, cracking jokes. He soon had almost the whole class roaring with laughter; only a few of the Slytherins remained stoic. Hagrid never even cracked a smile.

"It would be nice to have a proper class for once," Malfoy said nastily as they packed up to leave.

"Stuff it, Malfoy," Harry hissed at him. "It's your fault he's been scared to show us anything but flobberworms all year. If you'd listened to him the first day, none of this would have happened."

"Aw, look at Potty, sticking up for that great oaf. Is he going to become your new girlfriend?"

Harry brandished his wand. "I said shut up, Malfoy!" Harry repeated, louder.

"Or you'll what?" Malfoy taunted. Crabbe and Goyle came to stand menacingly behind him.

"Cut it out, you two," Sirius said sternly from behind Harry. "Harry, put your wand away. If you hex him, I'd have no choice but to give you detention."

Harry obeyed, glaring at Malfoy coldly. Sirius began to walk away.

"I'm glad his stupid hippograff is going to get the axe. I only wish I could be there to watch it," Malfoy said under his breath. Harry went for his wand again. Sirius probably wouldn't be too hard on him in detention anyway, and even if he were, hexing Malfoy would be worth it, but Hermione solved the problem. She walked up to Malfoy, quaking with rage, and slapped him across the face. Hard.

Before Malfoy recovered from the shock, Sirius was next to them again.

"Professor Black, that Mudblood just hit me!" Malfoy said indignantly.

"Twenty points from Slytherin for using that abominable word. And you can join me in detention tomorrow evening."

"What about her?" Malfoy asked.

"What about her?" Sirius repeated.

"She hit me," Malfoy insisted!

"I didn't see anything," Sirius said, his expression blank. "Get going right now, you three, or I'll dock you more points."

Malfoy began to mutter. Only the words "my father" could be heard.

"Ten points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy. And you may feel free to tell your father I'm happy to speak to him about your abysmal behavior any time he'd like. I'm sure he'd be interested to hear that you've been dragging your family's good name through the mud and behaving as though you haven't a speck of breeding. Now you have all of three seconds to obey me and get going or I'll dock you twenty more points apiece."

Malfoy and his goons moved very quickly after that.

"I'm sorry, Professor Black," Hermione said once they were out of earshot.

"Why?" Sirius asked. "It's high time someone smacked him. That most of his problem. His parents didn't do it to him enough when he was young, and now it's too late, more's the pity."

"I thought you didn't believe in smacking," Harry said. "You said it's barbaric."

"Yes, well," Sirius admitted. "I could be persuaded to make an exception for him."

"Is Hagrid all right?" Hermione asked.

"He'll be fine," Sirius said reassuringly. "Don't worry about him. His friends are looking out for him. I have to be heading on. I have a class to teach. Do you three have a class now?"

"I have Arithmancy," Hermione said, lifting her overstuffed satchel onto her shoulder.

"How many books have you got in that thing?" Sirius asked. "You have to be careful, or you're going to end with one shoulder five inches lower than the other." He lifted one of his shoulders in demonstration. "You don't want to go through the rest of your life lopsided."

"I'm fine, thank you," Hermione said swiftly. "I have to go." She took off into the castle.

Sirius shrugged. "Mark my words, gentlemen. She'll wish she'd taken my advice someday. See you later, then." He started off toward the castle himself.

"Why is she going to Arithmancy now? I thought it met at the same time as Care of Magical Creatures," Harry asked.

"Who knows?" Ron said with a shrug. "Let's go talk to Hagrid."

They spent the rest of the afternoon trying to cheer Hagrid up, but it was no use. He was inconsolable.

For the rest of the term, Hagrid spent most of his time caring for Buckbeak. Harry, Ron, and Hermione visited him often to cheer him up, but as the end of the term, and its accompanying exams, approached, Hermione grew too stressed to continue.

Harry began walking Cho to class and carrying her books for her. They walked through the corridor holding hands, and, the week before final exams, Harry graduated to kissing her on the cheek.

As final exams began, Hermione's stress rose to new levels. She made out a detailed study schedule for herself in the weeks leading up to exams. She made one for Harry and Ron as well, and they stuck with it, mostly to keep her company. The week of exams flew by, as it nearly always did, and finally Harry found himself waking up on the last day of the term. He had his Care of Magical Creatures exam that morning, and Divination that afternoon. He didn't know what to expect in either of them, and studying hadn't been much help.

Care of Magical Creatures turned out to be a snap. All they had to do was keep a flobberworm alive until the end of the exam. Since flobberworms thrived best when left to their own devices, Hermione used the time to study for Arithmancy. Ron and Hermione used it to talk to Hagrid.

"He's keepin' his spirits up," Hagrid explained tearfully. "I've been feedin' him ferrets. They're his favorite!" Hagrid broke down into great sobs. Harry and Ron uncomfortably patted as high up on his arm as they could reach.

After lunch, Ron and Harry went back to the common room to wait for Divination. They were taking their Divination exams one at a time, and Trelawney had had them make appointments. Ron and Harry had signed up back to back. At Ron's appointed time, they arrived at the trapdoor and waited.

"What do you think she'll have us do?" Ron asked nervously.

"I don't know. Just make sure you put lots of doom and gloom in your predictions, and you'll be fine," Harry assured him.

The trapdoor opened and Neville came out, his face white. Ron went up.

"How was it?" Harry asked Neville.

"Awful. She thinks I'm going to have a spill."

"I would worry about it," Harry said. "She always thinks somethings going to happen to me, and it never does."

Neville nodded and started off, but he tripped over his own feet and landed on the ground with a thump.

Harry quickly helped him up. "Well, there was your spill. Are you hurt?"

Neville shook his head.

"Now you can stop worrying about it," Harry said cheerfully. Neville did not look as though he intended to stop worrying about it.

When Ron came out, he looked just as uncomfortable as Neville. Harry took a deep breath and went up.

"Try to relax, dear. I'm going to have you read the crystal ball," Trelawney told him

Harry looked into the glowing orb. He had never managed to see anything in its smoky depths. "Erm, I'm in danger," he began.

"Yes?" Trelawney said expectantly.

"I'm in danger of being attacked..." Harry tried to think. He had come up with several great ideas while he waited, but now that he was in this hot, smoky, stifling room, he couldn't think of any. "By a dragon," he finished. Trelawney almost looked excited.

"But I'm going to be saved at the last moment," Harry said.

Trelawney's face fell. "It was a good try," she said. "Let's move on to palmistry, shall we. I should like for you to read my palm.

Things went on like that. Harry tried to follow his own advice and fill his predictions with as much misery as he could muster. Finally, it was over.

"Well done, my dear," Trelawney told him. "Please send the next person up as you leave."

Harry went down to join Ron and they went back to the common room, roundly abusing Trelawney as they did.

They had agreed to meet Hermione in the common room and go to Hagrid's so he wouldn't have to pass the day alone. They found Hermione fast asleep on one of the sofas.

"Should we wake her?" Ron asked.

"I think she'd want to see Hagrid before... you know... it happens."

Ron nodded, "But she looks so peaceful." Ron smiled, watching her.

Harry did not see the look on his friend's face. He walked over to Hermione and shook her gently.

"It's seventeen!" She said, jerking awake. "Oh, Harry, I was having a dream that I didn't know any of my arithmancy answers."

"It's time to go to Hagrid's," Harry told her.

She rose and they made their way to Hagrid's hut. The afternoon passed slowly. They tried to be cheerful company, but Hagrid's mood cast such a cloud over the whole hut, that they couldn't help joining him as he wallowed in misery.

Hagrid had taken up a vigil by the window while Harry sat in the open back doorway and patted Buckbeak. Hermione fell asleep with her head in Ron's lap. Ron looked very uncomfortable about it at first, but soon he began to stroke her hair absent-mindedly.

"They're comin'," Hagrid finally announced to the group. "Yeh lot have to get goin'. Go out the back way, and once they're in here, go straight back to the castle. Yeh can cut through the edge o' the fores' to keep from bein' seen."

Ron woke Hermione gently. She looked very embarrassed over having fallen asleep on him. They made a quick exit out the back door just as there was a knock on the front door.

"Hagrid," they heard Dumbledore's voice say.

"Come in, Professor," Hagrid said gruffly.

"Poor Hagrid," Hermione whispered. "Poor Buckbeak."

"Come on, let's get going. We should use the underbrush for cover."

Harry led them toward the forest. At the edge, he stopped short, peering into the forest.

"What is it?" Ron asked, coming up behind him.

"I think there's someone there," Harry said. "There is! Someone's in there!"

Suddenly a strong pair of arms shot out of the forest and pulled him behind a tree. A hand was clamped over his mouth so quickly he didn't even have time to cry out. He heard Ron and Hermione make little noises of surprise, but he was so caught up in his own struggle to get free he didn't have any idea what was happening to them. He quickly realized he would not be able to get away; the arms that held him were much too strong.

* * *

_Author's note again: Sorry about the evil cliffie. What can I say? I like them. I promise to get the next chapter out soon._


	31. Hippogriffs and Hideaways

"Shut up, Pronglet!" a voice hissed in Harry's ear. "You're going to give us away."

Harry continued to struggle for a moment, but understanding dawned on him suddenly. Only one person called him "Pronglet". He stopped fighting.

The hand around Harry's mouth disappeared and Harry spun to see Sirius, Remus, and James standing there. Remus was just letting go of Hermione, and James of Ron.

"What are you doing here?" Harry whispered.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," James whispered.

"We were keeping Hagrid company. We're not out of bounds. Well, we are now, but we weren't before."

James smiled. "You're not in trouble. It was very kind of you to stay with Hagrid."

"So what are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"You didn't expect us to just let them kill an innocent hippogriff did you?" Sirius asked.

"Anything that can get Lucius Malfoy that worked up deserves to live a long and happy life," James added.

"I just came along because they promised me cupcakes," Remus said gravely.

"Have I ever told all of you that I love you?" Harry asked, his face breaking into a wide smile.

"Once or twice. Now shut up. We have to concentrate," James said.

"Why? Just grab him," Ron said.

"If we just grab him, Fudge will think Hagrid let him go. We have to wait until they've seen he's out there. Look. They're looking out the window," Sirius whispered.

Fudge, Dumbledore, and MacNair, the executioner, were indeed looking out the window. Then Dumbledore appeared to have called them away to show them something near the fireplace.

Sirius darted out of the forest quickly. He bowed low to Buckbeak, but Buckbeak refused to return the bow. "Please," Sirius whispered. "We're trying to help you." Buckbeak's eye gleamed. Sirius began to back away.

Without thinking, Harry darted out as well.

"Harry, no!" James whispered furiously, but Harry ignored him. He went to Buckbeak and bowed. Buckbeak regarded him haughtily for a moment and then returned the bow. Harry worked quickly to untie him and led him into the forest.

"Why didn't he like me?" Sirius asked as they led Buckbeak through the undergrowth as quickly as they dared.

"Maybe you smell like a dog to him," James suggested.

"Why would Sirius smell like a dog?" Harry asked.

"No reason in particular," James said. "You did well, Harry. But If you ever do anything like that again, I'll kill you."

"Thanks," Harry said. He knew a compliment when he heard one.

"No!" Came a strangled cry from the direction of Hagrid's hut. They stopped moving. "You did this on purpose!" Came the voice. Harry thought it was a particularly unpleasant-sounding voice and reckoned it had to be MacNair. His outcry was followed by a joyful whoop from Hagrid.

"We'll have to mount a search," declared Fudge.

"A search?" Dumbledore asked. "Do you really think a renegade hippogriff would escape on foot? Search the skies if it pleases you! Hagrid, I think I'd like a spot of tea."

A loud oath floated through the forest, courtesy of MacNair.

"Such language," Sirius whispered, shaking his head. "He clearly has no proper breeding." Then Sirius went on to call him something that led Remus to comment that he clearly had no proper breeding, either.

"I never claimed I did," Sirius retorted.

"Dumbledore knew, didn't he?" Hermione asked suddenly. "He distracted them on purpose."

"I think you'll find there's very little that goes on in the castle that Dumbledore doesn't know about. He's a very astute fellow," Remus answered.

"Come on, let's get going. If I get caught out here, I'll lose my job, and I'm rather fond of it," James said quickly, snapping them all to attention.

They made slow progress as they cut through the forest to the far edge of the grounds.

"What are you planning to do with him?" Ron asked when James held up a hand and motioned for them to stop.

"Originally, we were planning for Sirius to ride him to the Forest of Dean and let him go there. We reckoned that was far enough away that they wouldn't find him. Now I suppose I'll have to do it," James informed the trio. "It's a shame, too. I was supposed to spend the day with Bronwyn tomorrow. Oh well, I'm sure she'll understand."

"I could do it. He likes me," Harry suggested.

"No ruddy way," James replied.

"Why not? I've ridden him before."

"When did you ride him?"

"In class on the first day."

"You never told me about that. What was Hagrid thinking, putting a thirteen-year-old on a Hippogriff?"

"He doesn't think! He's Hagrid!" Harry responded.

James opened his mouth to say something else, but couldn't think of a retort. "That's true, I suppose," he allowed. "But you should have told him no."

"There wasn't any time. He just picked me up and put me on his back and smacked him. I didn't even know what was happening until I was up in the air. If it makes you feel any better, I like broomsticks much better."

Buckbeak made a noise of protest. "It's not your fault," Harry assured him quickly. "You're a wonderful flyer. I was afraid I was going to fall off because I didn't know the proper way to fly with you. If I could learn how to do it properly, I'm sure I'd like flying with you much better than broomsticks." Harry bowed to him again for good measure.

Buckbeak inclined his head. Harry reached out to pat him. "You really are beautiful," Harry said, and Buckbeak made a small noise of appreciation, leaning his head slightly into Harry's hand.

"Let me try again," Sirius said. Harry took a step back as Sirius walked toward Buckbeak and bowed. For a moment, Buckbeak regarded him warily.

"He's nice, you can trust him," Harry said.

Buckbeak glanced at Harry and then returned the bow. "Well, that's comforting," Sirius said, reaching out to pat Buckbeak's head.

"That's settled, then," Remus said with an air of authority.

"You three should go straight back to the castle," James ordered. "It's going to be getting dark soon, and you don't want to be out here after nightfall."

Harry protested only a little, obeying after a particularly stern look from James.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off toward the castle.

"Your dad's brilliant, Harry," Ron gushed. "I can't believe he really saved Buckbeak. My dad would never think of something like that. Fred and George might, but never Dad."

"He does have quite a bit of nerve, although it seemed to me Sirius was the one doing most of the work," Hermione said.

"I thought you didn't still fancy him," Ron said, just as they were passing the whomping willow.

Hermione denied it but blushed furiously and got a faraway smile on her face. She was still smiling when the spell hit her from behind.

"STUPEFY! STUPEFY! PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" Harry heard. Beside him, Ron and Hermione both crumpled onto the ground. Harry's muscles locked, and he couldn't move. Someone levitated him, but he couldn't see who. He tried to tell himself it was Draco Malfoy playing a prank on him, but the voice that shouted the spells hadn't been Malfoy's. It hadn't been a voice Harry recognized at all.

Harry floated helplessly inches above the ground. He wished he could see who had him, hoping it wasn't the person he suspected. He saw himself being levitated into a small door in the whomping willow. Standing in the passageway beyond, holding a wand, and with a hungry look on his face, stood Peter Pettigrew. Harry's heart dropped into his stomach. He began to hope beyond hope that someone in the castle had seen or that the Marauders were still standing in the forest watching.

They probably were, Harry tried to reassure himself. It would be just like his dad to stand there and watch to make sure he obeyed. Any second now, the Marauders would come charging out of the forest and save him. Any second now. He was almost to the passageway. What were they waiting for?

As he entered the passageway, he began to wish that maybe they'd hurry a little bit. He was just thinking this could not possibly be worse when Pettigrew banged his head on the willow and his glasses fell off, turning the world into a blur. A moment later, it didn't matter because the passageway closed behind him, and he was enveloped in darkness - alone, blind, and at the mercy of one of the most dangerous wizards in the world.

* * *

"We should stay and make sure they get inside okay," James told his friends.

"Oh, dry up, Prongs," Sirius said. "Nothing's going to happen to them between here and the castle. And we're running out of time. Remus has to get back to take his potion. Let's just go."

James reluctantly agreed and, giving the trio one last glance, turned to follow his friends.

"Happy flying," James said to Sirius as he climbed on Buckbeak's back. "Do be careful, and all of that."

"I'm always careful, mate," Sirius assured him. "See you tomorrow."

James cast a disillusionment charm over both Sirius and Buckbeak. Then he and Remus watched as well as they could as the two took off into the evening sun. Sirius let out a raw-throated joyful yell as they rose.

"He's going to give himself away, shouting like that," James said, shaking his head.

"Come on, I have to get back. There's a potion with my name on it in the castle."

"So, do you think you'll come back and teach again next year?" James asked as they walked.

"I'd love to. It's been wonderful," Remus said enthusiastically. "I never would have expected to love it so much. The students are amazing. Simply amazing." Remus continued to talk of how much he loved teaching and how much he admired his students. James listened intently, a large smile on his face, glad to see his friend so fulfilled after such a hard go of it.

When they reached the edge of the forest, they both stopped short. "What in the world?" James asked. There were two figures lying on the ground near the whomping willow. James rushed forward to investigate, Remus on his heels. "It's Ron and Hermione," James said as he got closer. He ran full out to Hermione and put his wand to her chest.

"Ennervate," he said. He heard Remus do the same to Ron. "Where's Harry?" James asked, hoping he didn't sound as frantic as he felt.

"I - I don't know," Hermione said shakily. "He was with us, and then we were attacked."

"Who attacked you?" The panic was beginning to take him now.

"I don't know. We didn't see him."

"Him?" Remus asked.

"It was a man's voice," Ron said, sounding just as shaken up as Hermione.

"Are you two hurt?" Remus asked, all business.

Hermione shook her head and stood on wobbly legs. Beside her, Ron did the same.

"I want you to go to the castle right now and get Dumbledore. Tell him Harry's been attacked, and he's missing. If you can't find him, get McGonagall. If you can't find either of them, get whoever you can."

Hermione and Ron both nodded. Then they both turned and began running toward the castle, hand in hand.

"You should call Sirius back. We might need him," Remus said.

James wasn't listening. He was busy studying the map he had just pulled out of his robes. "He's not on here anywhere," James said, the panic in his voice rising.

"We'll find him," Remus said reassuringly. "Give me your mirror. I'm calling Sirius."

James looked for a moment as though he hadn't understood. Then he reached into his robes and handed over the mirror. He told himself to stay calm and remember his training. If this were someone else's child who had been taken, he would start by searching the area for clues. Thankful for something to do, he raked his eyes back and forth across the ground, but he saw nothing.

Then, he saw a tiny gleam of light by the willow. "Immobilus," he bellowed, pointing his wand at the tree. The willow froze, and James ran forward to find Harry's glasses, lying broken beside the whomping willow's secret entrance.

"Remus, I know where they've gone!" He called. "They're heading to the Shrieking Shack!" James pressed the knot that would open the passageway.

"Sirius is coming," Remus said, handing James the mirror.

"There's no time! I'm going after Harry!"

"We might need him!"

Sirius landed in the forest a moment later and came charging toward them. The disillusionment charm had been lifted.

"What the hell?" He asked.

"Harry's in the Shrieking Shack. Someone attacked him." James held up the broken glasses and Sirius paled. Then he ran into the passageway. Sirius and Remus ran through right behind him.

"Who attacked him?" Sirius asked as they ran.

"Ron and Hermione didn't know," James called over his shoulder, his face looking frightened and drawn by the light of his wand. "But I've got a good guess. We have to hurry."

As he ran, James couldn't help but think of another time he had pounded through this same passageway, praying all the while that he wouldn't be too late to stop the inevitable tragedy that waited at the end. Willing himself not to even consider the possibility, he ran on.

* * *

Harry floated helplessly down the passageway. He had lost all hope of someone coming to rescue him. He was completely at the mercy of Peter Pettigrew. It seemed eons to Harry before they stopped, and he heard the creaking of a door and saw light beyond it. Pettigrew floated him out of the passageway. Harry wished he had his glasses so at least he could see what was coming.

He dropped to the floor with a dull thud.

"Expelliarmus!" Pettigrew said, and Harry felt his wand flying out of his robes. Pettigrew tucked it into his own.

"Finite incantatum," Pettigrew said, and Harry found he could move again. He tested his limbs, grateful to no longer be frozen, before rising to stand. He might not be able to see it coming, but he would at least face his fate like a man.

"What do you want with me?" Harry asked. He cringed at the waver in his own voice. He hated to think that Pettigrew would know he was frightened. "You're a Gryffindor," he reminded himself.

"Do you know who I am?" Pettigrew asked.

Harry nodded. "You're Peter Pettigrew. You're the man who turned my parents over to Voldemort."

"Yes, I did that," Pettigrew admitted. Harry heard something in the confession he did not expect. Was that regret in the monster's voice?

"All I want now is my life back, but I couldn't have that until I saw you."

Harry swallowed hard, wondering what Pettigrew had in mind for him. Perhaps it was a good thing he couldn't see after all.

"Harry Potter, I have come to beg your forgiveness for my role in your mother's death."


	32. A Rat's Tale

Peter Pettigrew wasn't a bad sort. Leastwise, that's what he'd always told himself. He was five when his mother lost the baby and had the mental break that would come to define his childhood. His father had been hopelessly in love with her and dedicated himself to giving her the care she so richly deserved. He quit his job and sat at her bedside waiting on her day in and day out. He hadn't meant to neglect his son; that had merely been a byproduct of the painful situation. Peter would understand when he was older, he told himself.

But if anything, the older Peter got, the less he understood. He carried the hurt with him throughout his life, nursing it carefully, even as it consumed him.

Peter's childhood was not easy. He spent most of it alone. His mother was far too fragile for guests and far too paranoid to let Peter wander too far, so he stayed at home. He spent most of his life being told to be quiet because his mother was resting, or to go away because his mother didn't want to see him, or to play outside because his mother was having a bad day.

While the Pettigrews had once been a rich and powerful family, their influence waned as his mother sank deeper and deeper into insanity and his father became more and more reclusive. They slowly ate through the family gold, so that by the time Peter's acceptance letter to Hogwarts came, they were flat broke. His father had to go begging to his better-off relations for the money to send his son to the prestigious school. They feared he wouldn't be able to go at all, but in the end, his father's sister had promised to pay for Peter's education and supplies. It was something Peter never stopped resenting.

Peter grew to hate his mother and her control of his life. When his father was in his final days, he begged Peter on his deathbed to care for his mother. Peter dutifully promised and then, as soon as the old man was in the ground, he put his mother in the closed ward at St. Mungo's.

He never visited her.

He never even gave her a second thought.

He didn't feel guilty about it, either. After all, he was sure she was not thinking about him.

Like all damaged children, Peter dreamed high and lofty dreams for himself. He dreamed that he would be discovered a quidditch prodigy and play for England. He dreamed that he would uncover some amazing latent talent once he got to Hogwarts that would make him rich and famous. He even dreamed, in his wilder fantasies, that the healers would discover he had been switched at birth, and he would be allowed to go and live with his real parents, rather than being trapped with his crazy mother and the father who castigated himself at her feet day in and day out.

Peter saw Hogwarts as his ticket to freedom. He would go to Hogwarts and he would be popular and beloved, and someone would finally realize how wonderful he was and appreciate him accordingly. It was a beautiful fantasy, and he cherished it.

Even in his wilder dreams, Peter had never imagined he would be sorted into Gryffindor. He expected to be in Hufflepuff like his father, or Slytherin like his mother. But as the sorting hat sat on his head deliberating, it saw something in him that he had never even seen in himself and sent him to dwell with the brave of heart. Like most students in his year, he was immediately taken with James Potter and Sirius Black, the fearless class clown and the adolescent adonis. He tried to become friends with them their first night in the dormitory, but Sirius rebuffed him. With the proficiency of a wounded child, Peter held onto that hurt and fed it until it had grown from a small sting in his pride to a festering sore in his very soul.

It didn't take Peter long at Hogwarts to make the discovery that he would never be popular, and the knowledge pained him. The social awkwardness that had come from spending so much time alone made him inept at making friends or relating to his teachers. No one seemed to much care for him at all, except for Remus Lupin.

Peter thought Remus might have hung the moon. They quickly became inseparable, sitting together in classes and at meals, spending their free time together, even working together on homework. Remus was Peter's first real friend, and even though he didn't know much about how to be a good friend in return, he vowed to do his best to try.

When Remus became friends with James and Sirius, Peter was sure that was the end of his first and only friendship. But then, unexpectedly, James and Sirius had accepted Peter into their group. Expecting to find himself with no friends, he instead found himself with three. He was socially aware enough to realize that he was no one's favorite friend in the group. James and Sirius preferred each other's company to anyone else's, and Remus seemed to prefer them over Peter as well. Remus rose quickly to a place of prominence in the eyes of the Marauder ringleaders due to his kind, quiet nature and clever mind for tricks, but Peter had no such skills to offer. Still, with four there was rarely an odd man out, and there were times, though admittedly few and far between, when Peter was permitted to be the center of attention, and so he was content with his role in the Marauders.

Peter also quickly discovered that he was nothing spectacular. He was a mediocre wizard with no head for study. He would never be able to aspire to anything greater than low-level government work. Peter lay awake at night, listening to the breathing of his more talented friends, and seethed against the injustice of it. There were days when he was sure he was trapped in the wrong life, sure he was meant for bigger and better things. He couldn't understand why those around him never saw how wonderful he was. He dreamed of power and glory and prestige, but no matter what he did, it never came.

As graduation from Hogwarts loomed, hopelessness crept into him. He breathed it in day in and day out, collecting it like raindrops in a deluge, dealing in it like an antique trader. It was eating him from the inside out. That was his state of mind when the Death Eaters came to recruit him. He didn't agree with the Dark Lord's vision, but he jumped at the chance to ride the man's coattails. The Dark Lord would bring him the sort of power and glory he had always dreamed of.

Having an in as he did with James Potter and Sirius Black made him a perfect spy for the Death Eaters. He played his part as the shy, timid boy so well that no one ever suspected him, even as he was feeding information from the Order of the Phoenix directly to the Dark Lord.

Peter could be seen standing with the Order in all their photographs, laughing with them at all their milestones, and celebrating with them at all their victories. While he had never been fond of children, and his cooing at baby Harry was largely a show, Peter's smile at the Potters' wedding had been genuine. He was proud to stand with them, alongside Sirius and Remus. Through it all, he still considered them his friends.

Peter didn't think of himself as a traitor. Rather, he thought of himself as being ahead of the game. The more he listened as the Death Eaters wove their tapestry of dreams, the more he came to realize that the Dark Lord was truly on the side of good, fighting to free all of wizardkind from the oppression of the muggles. Peter was sure that his friends would someday come to realize it as well and would join with the Dark Lord's faithful followers. When that day came, Peter would be ready to welcome them into the Death Eater army with open arms - and only a little gloating.

Slowly, Peter's reputation began to grow. The Dark Lord decided Peter's role as spy made him important enough to build up and arranged for him to win a few duels with low level death eaters - peons who were expendable, not even worth breaking out of Azkaban, not that the Death Eaters were strong enough to do that just yet.

When the Dark Lord marked the Potters for death, Peter accepted it calmly. He didn't have anything against James, per se, and Lily in particular had always been kind to him, save those times when they were younger and she was telling off all the Marauders together. As for their brat, it was unfortunate for him that he would have to die so young, but that was the way of things in a world so cruel as this one.

Peter had never been the sort of sentimental sap who thinks a life is worth more simply because it is young or innocent. The stillborn baby sister who destroyed his family cured him of any such notion, if he'd ever had it. Peter understood the concept of the greater good and knew that the Dark Lord would not spill magical blood unnecessarily. So, while he was not glad that his friends would soon be joining the ranks of the collateral damage, neither was he going to shed too many tears for them. His own life would continue unchanged long after they were gone.

For Peter, the main advantage to the deaths of the Potters was the he would finally be allowed to see Sirius suffer. Sirius, who had been cruel to him on that very first ever-so-hopeful night at Hogwarts. Sirius, who made fun of him relentlessly. Sirius, who used to cast confundus on him whenever they were in trouble to keep him from "giving them away".

No one ever seemed to notice that Peter's tendency to sing like a canary only manifested itself when Sirius was in trouble alongside him. Peter never minded losing house points, or getting detention, or even taking the cane, so long as he got the joy of watching Sirius receive the same punishment. He hated Sirius with all his heart. Hated everything he was and everything he stood for. Hated his looks and his wealth and his talent and his popularity. Sirius was everything Peter had always wished he could be, and so Peter hated him with a pure black hatred. The death of his best friend and his beloved godson would destroy Sirius Black, and Peter would get to watch. The thought filled him with so much joy, Peter thought his body wouldn't be able to hold it all.

When the Potters and Sirius pulled Peter to the side one day and told him they wanted him to be the Potters' secret-keeper, he could hardly believe his luck. When they told him they were planning to tell everyone that Sirius was the secret-keeper instead, Peter could barely contain himself. Not only would he be able to deliver the Potters directly to the Dark Lord - and be rewarded for it, he was sure - but he would also be able to frame Sirius for the whole thing and see him dragged away to the dementors, where he would spend the rest of his days having his soul slowly destroyed. It was no less than he deserved.

While he had never had the sort of book smarts that the idiot teachers at Hogwarts so fawned over, Peter was plenty clever, and so he began devising his plan. It had been a sound plan, but then it had all gone terribly, horribly, unthinkably wrong. Somehow the Dark Lord failed to kill the Potter brat and disappeared, along with all the hopes and plans of the Death Eaters and all Peter's dreams of glory. Then Sirius came to confront him on a crowded street and Peter had to fake his own death. He still missed the finger he had cut off to simulate the effects of a blasting curse. Peter watched from a rooftop as Sirius was arrested and taken away, screaming his own innocence the whole while. He felt a surge of pride when he saw the aurors pick up his finger and declare him a hero. "He'll get the Order of Merlin, First Class for this," one of the aurors had said. If he couldn't be appreciated in life, at least he would be appreciated in "death".

Then the next day, the magical community discovered that James had survived as well and was only too willing to tell everyone that it was really Peter Pettigrew who turned him over to the Dark Lord. Suddenly, Peter had found himself a fugitive, without a friend in the world.

When he was captured, he begged his friends for mercy, and they betrayed him. They looked at him with hatred in their eyes - even Remus - and refused to help him as the dementors dragged him - him, and not Sirius - off to Azkaban. Peter was forced to stay in a tiny, unbreakable glass cage in his rat form, wallowing in his own filth, eating rat pellets, with nothing but a squeaky exercise wheel and the clippings from the Daily Prophet that lined his cage for entertainment.

And always, always, there was the pressing weight of the dementors, filling him with despair. Peter's only comfort was that they could not affect him as much while he was in his animagus form. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. After all, Peter told himself, he had never deserved this. He wasn't a bad sort. He had merely made the best he could out of a bad situation. One would think his so-called friends and the judgmental bastards of the Wizengamot would understand that.

As days grew into weeks and weeks into months and months into years, Peter nurtured all the perceived wrongs that had been done against him. He hated Sirius and James and Remus, and even baby Harry, and vowed he would somehow get his revenge against them someday. But slowly, ever so slowly, the dementors forced him to face the truth about himself - that he was petty and vain and selfish and conniving. As the years passed, he began to feel genuine regret for what he had done. Regret turned to remorse and remorse to guilt until, by the time his tenth anniversary in Azkaban passed, his only thought was of somehow making amends for the horrible things he had done.

Peter was astounded the day the little witch who brought him his food and cleaned his cage got distracted by an impromptu visit from Cornelius Fudge, and forgot to lock his little glass box. Peter scampered out if it, hiding in the walls. By the time the alarm sounded, he was already being safely ferried away in the Minister's own boat.

Peter's first act as a free man, he decided, would be to find James Potter and beg his forgiveness for his role in Lily's death. It would be the first decent thing he had done in all his life. Then, once he had seen James, he would run away and start again - he wasn't willing to go back to Azkaban, after all. Maybe he would even settle down with a pretty witch and have a quiet sort of life: the sort of life he had always been destined for and only now had learned to appreciate.

However, James Potter proved difficult to find. And then, when he finally did see his old friend that day in Godric's Hollow, the look of fury on the man's face told him clearly that he would not be willing to hear Peter's apologies. He would have to arrange their meeting carefully. He made his way to Surrey to the house where Lily's sister had once lived, hoping she lived there still. Surely she was in touch with her nephew, and Peter hoped he could find some clues as to the Potters' whereabouts there.

Then, miraculously, Harry was there. Peter recognized him immediately, both from his resemblance to his father and from the pictures of him Peter had seen in the papers just before his breakout declaring that the boy had killed a basilisk and saved Hogwarts. "_James's son_," Peter thought to himself when he saw it. Killing a basilisk seemed like the sort of thing James's son would do.

That day, as he looked at Harry through his rat eyes, he was surprised to feel a strange fondness for the boy who once seemed to save all his spitting up for Peter's turn to hold him. He made a split-second decision to plead his case to the boy in hopes that he could convince James to meet with him. He was nearly to Harry, nearly finished with the last piece of business that was holding him in England, when the Knight Bus came and Harry sprang onto it. Then, James - now an auror, apparently - had come again.

Peter hid in a tree, thinking of the way the Marauders used to climb the trees together at Hogwarts and perch in them on lazy Spring Saturdays. He listened with growing frustration as James and the aurors spoke of him, spitting on his name and cursing him. The unkind words were true, Peter knew, but that didn't make it hurt any less as he heard them coming out of his old friend's mouth. That was when he realized that James would never meet with him, and would never forgive him. If absolution was to come, he would have to seek it from Harry.

He made his way to Hogsmeade, planning to hide away in the Shrieking Shack. However, when he got there, he was surprised to learn that Sirius and Remus were teachers at the school: surprised that parents would allow Remus near their children, and surprised that Sirius had managed to grow up enough to hold down a job. He felt a pang of longing for the friendship he had lost when he saw Remus, and he felt a familiar surge of loathing when he saw that Remus was still friends with Sirius. He never could understand why someone as kind as Remus would hang around someone as cruel as Sirius.

He dared not venture onto Hogwarts Grounds once he saw they were there. He knew the Marauders' Map had been confiscated in their seventh year - Peter's doing, in hopes that Sirius would finally be expelled - but he was sure Sirius or Remus would have taken it back now that they were teachers. He couldn't risk them seeing him and working out his hideout. He lingered mostly in the Forbidden Forest, watching from just outside the edge of the map's boundaries.

He settled into a cave near the town. He even managed to steal a wand from the busty barmaid at the Three Broomsticks and conjure himself some half-decent furniture. He was able to transform to his human self and finally, after so many years, truly stretch his legs. He slept easily for the first time in twelve years.

He spotted Harry many times, but the boy never seemed to be alone. He was always with classmates or teachers or one of the Marauders. It didn't take keen powers of observation to see that they were all fiercely overprotective of him, or that he was beginning to chafe against their rules. Peter was sure that if he waited long enough, he would have a chance to get the boy alone. When he did, he would give his condolences and beg the boy for forgiveness. Then he would run. He would run as fast as his little rat legs would carry him, and he would finally be free of his past.

* * *

_A/N: Tara, I don't really have a regular updating schedule. I just update whenever I get done. Sorry I can't be more helpful._

_To everyone, thanks so, so much for all the reviews and adds. I've got two more chapters to go, and they're both more or less done, so I'm hoping to have them up pretty quickly. I'm also planning to do part four, although I have no idea when I'll get that up. My life just got really hectic all of a sudden, so I'm going to be slowing down a bit. I'm going to keep writing, though. I love it too much not to. Thanks to everyone for sticking with me. You all have know idea how much your encouragement has meant to me._


	33. The Least Loved Marauder

"You what?" Harry asked.

"Twelve years in Azkaban gives a person a lot of time to think, Harry," Pettigrew began to explain. "All I want now is to get out of Britain and start fresh, but I knew I couldn't do that until I had told James how much I regretted what I did to him, to all of you. I tried to tell him in Godric's Hollow, but he wouldn't hear it. He's still caught up in the past, so I decided to come find you."

Harry blinked. After all the horrible thoughts that had gone through his mind as they traveled down the passageway, this was the last thing he ever expected.

"If you were truly sorry, you should have stayed in Azkaban where you belong."

"Have you ever been to Azkaban, Harry?" Pettigrew asked darkly.

"No, but I know what the dementors do to a person. I've seen them. You know what I hear whenever they come near me? I hear my mother dying... because of you. And now you want me to tell you that it's all forgiven so you can just run along and start a new life like it never happened?"

"You don't have to forgive me. All I wanted you to do was hear my apology and pass my condolences on to your father. We were great friends once. I had hoped that would count for something, but he apparently doesn't value friendship as much as he used to."

"Yes, he does. But you are not his friend. You tried to have him murdered. You tried to have me murdered."

"And there's not a day goes by that I don't feel remorse, but I can't change it now. Please. Please, Harry, I'm begging you. Just hear me out."

Pettigrew sighed. He wasn't sure how he had lost control of the situation, but this was not going the way he had envisioned it. He had hoped that the boy, with all his youthful innocence, would be quicker to forgive than his father. This was clearly not the case; he had his father's temper, it would appear.

"Fine. I'll hear what you have to say," Harry said.

Pettigrew began to speak. He told of how he had been seduced by the Death Eaters and how he had turned spy. He told how he had yearned for power and prestige that was always to elude him. Finally, he told how he had learned that the Potters were marked for death and how he himself had handed them over. Then he told of his capture and the years in Azkaban and how they had changed him.

"I'll never claim to be a good man, Harry. But I'm not as evil as you think me. The Peter Pettigrew that the world fears no longer exists. All I want now is to live out the rest of my life in peace."

Harry wasn't sure how to respond, but it didn't matter because at that moment the passageway door banged open and the Marauders came barging in.

"Expelliarmus!" James shouted, and Rosmerta's wand came flying out of Pettigrew's hand.

"James, Remus, Sirius. My old friends!" Pettigrew began, a small quiver of fear creeping into his voice.

James rushed over to Harry and helped him to his feet. "Are you all right, Harry? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. He only wanted to tell me he's sorry and he's different now."

"Sorry?" Sirius's voice came from the doorway. "You kidnapped him to tell him you're sorry? I should bloody well hope you're sorry, you piece of shit."

"Please, all I want is to start a new life," Pettigrew explained. "I just wanted to tell James that I've changed. I'm going to go abroad, somewhere far away, and start over. I'll never bother any of you again."

"It's as simple as that, is it?" James asked. "You're just going to go abroad and start over? And I'm supposed to just forget about what you did to Lily? What you tried to do to me, and to Harry? He was a baby, Peter! You tried to murder a baby! And now you want us to just let you go?"

"Are you going to kill me?" Pettigrew asked. The fear was evident in his voice now.

"We're not murderers," Sirius spat with more venom in his voice than Harry had ever known it could possess. "That's your territory."

Pettigrew breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, all of you. You are truly kind men."

"We're not that kind," James said, a hard edge in his voice that Harry had never heard before. "We're still going to see you thrown back into prison. The dementors have missed you. I believe they wish to give you a kiss."

"NO!" Harry shouted. "No, I don't want him to be kissed. And I don't reckon... I don't reckon Mum would have wanted that, either."

"James, get him out of here. Remus and I can take care of this," Sirius ordered.

"You dear boy," Pettigrew simpered, ignoring Sirius and moving toward Harry with his arms out. James stepped quickly in front of him.

"Don't you touch him," James spat.

Pettigrew stopped in his tracks. "You don't understand! I'm not a bad man. The Dark Lord was going to kill me."

"Then you should have died!" Sirius shouted. "You should have died rather than turn on James. Any of us would have willingly given our lives for you."

Pettigrew looked back and forth between his old friends.

"No, you wouldn't have," he said sadly. "I always knew I was the least-loved Marauder."

"That's not true," Remus said softly. "We cared about you. And, yes, we would have died for you. Any one of us would have. That's what friendship is, Peter. You never did understand that, did you? All you ever thought about was how to get ahead, and you never cared who you stepped on to get there. I only regret that I never saw you for what you were sooner. I should have turned my back on you our very first night at Hogwarts."

"Don't say that, Remus," Pettigrew begged. "You were the best friend I ever had. Please, just tell them to let me go. I'll never bother any of you again. I swear it."

Peter didn't know what to do. It seemed no matter how carefully he planned, nothing ever worked out for him. He saw now that forgiveness would never come to him. He would never escape his past. The world wouldn't let him.

Well, if they were determined to make him into a villain, maybe the time had come to accept that that was what he was. He decided then and there that he would rather fight to the death than be kissed. He didn't like the odds of three on one, and he had no wand, but he had to try. He shifted his weight and felt something prick him in the side. Then he remembered: he did have a wand after all. He still had the brat's wand. He would start with Sirius, he decided. Then even if he failed, he would have died doing the world a favor by ridding it of someone as pig-headed as Sirius Black.

He took a deep breath and drew Harry's wand from his robes as quickly as he could, pointing it at Sirius's chest. "AVADA KE--""

"STUPEFY!" James shouted.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Remus shouted.

The red light from James's wand hit Pettigrew in the chest and Harry's wand flew into Remus's outstretched hand. Sirius stood frozen in place, his breathing shallow.

"Sirius, are you all right, mate?" James asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Sirius did not respond. James shook him and Sirius startled as though coming out of a trance. "He was going to kill me," Sirius breathed. "You two just saved my life."

"It's a life worth saving," James said with a small smile. Then he turned to Harry. "All right, there?"

Harry nodded. "I'm fine. Only I can't see."

"Oh, right," James said. He pulled Harry's glasses out of his pocket and pointed his wand at them. "Reparo." Then he handed them to Harry, who put them on his face gratefully. He blinked as he looked around.

"Where are we?" Harry asked.

"The Shrieking Shack," Remus said, handing Harry his wand. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

James went over to Pettigrew and shot ropes out of his wand. They curled like snakes around Pettigrew and bound him tightly. "We'll have to keep a close watch on him to make sure he doesn't transform. Wingardium Leviosa."

Pettigrew rose. The ropes held firm, but his head lolled weakly to the side. As they exited the shack, James was careful to bang it on the doorframe. "Oh, dear, I think that will leave a mark," James said.

"Such a shame," Sirius said. "Auror brutality."

"I think I've earned a little after all he's put me through. And he did just try to murder my best mate."

"Yes, I'm a little shaken up about that," Sirius admitted. "My heart is beating very quickly. It's a little scary to think I could be blinked out of existence just like that."

"A simple spell..." James said darkly.

"But you weren't," Harry cut in. "You're still here, and that's what matters."

"Wise beyond your years, little Pronglet."

When they exited the passageway, the sun was just setting. The were immediately greeted by Ron and Hermione running toward them with Snape and McGonagall in tow.

"How did this happen?" McGonagall asked breathlessly.

"He kidnapped Harry," Hermione said.

"Everything's fine now," James said. "He's back in custody."

"I always hoped I could be there when he was caught," Snape said, a sinister smile on his face. "I've always heard that the dementor's kiss is so horrible it's nearly impossible to witness, but I shall do my best."

"NO!" Harry protested. "No, I don't want him kissed! Dad, you can't let them!"

"Okay, okay, Harry. It's all right." He turned toward McGonagall. "Professor, please remind Fudge that Peter deserves a trial, and if he still wants to have him kissed without a trial, remind him that a story about the Minister single-handedly aborting justice is the sort of thing Daily Prophet reporters live for."

"James," Snape said, sounding as though it was causing him physical pain to say the name, "surely you realize--"

"I realize that my job is to see that justice is done, Severus. That includes ensuring that even scum like Peter Pettigrew have their day in court."

"The Wizengamot will decide to have him kissed," Snape said.

"That may well be, but at least he will have had a chance. Would you mind taking him up to the castle now? I need a moment with Harry."

"Yes, of course," McGonagall agreed. James dropped Pettigrew none too gently and McGonagall began levitating him - upside down - across the grounds. Snape followed, glaring at Pettigrew with such hatred that Harry half-expected the bound man to burst into flames or drop dead on the spot.

"Would you like us to go as well?" Remus asked.

"No," James said, turning to Harry. He put a hand gently on his shoulder and bent down to look in his face. "I just wanted to be sure you really are all right. That was quite an ordeal you had in there."

"I'm all right," Harry said. "He's not going to be kissed, is he?" Harry shuddered as he asked the question.

"I don't know," James admitted. "I'm going to do everything I can to make sure he isn't. Although he did just try to use an unforgiveable, so there might not be much I can do."

"I wouldn't mind so much if he were kissed," Sirius added.

"Yes, you would, too," James said. "You'd hate it just as much as the rest of us."

"Oh, all right, maybe I would. Do you think they'd at least let me punch him a few times before they haul him away?"

The corners of James's mouth twitched. "That could possibly be arranged. Come on, everyone. We should get up to the castle. The sun's almost down. Look, the moon's already out."

James, Sirius, and Remus stopped in their tracks as soon as the words exited James's mouth.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Remus, you never took your potion," James said, turning to face Remus, a look of sheer terror on his face.

Remus's eyes had grown wide. His skin was pale, and he was sweating. "I forgot... all the excitement..." he whispered.

Sirius grabbed Harry's arm. "You have to run!" He shouted. "All three of you!"

"Why?" Ron asked.

Harry looked at the sky. "The full moon," he groaned. "Oh, no!"

"Run, all of you! Quickly!" James shouted.

"I won't leave you here!" Harry shouted back.

James grabbed him and began pushing him, Ron, and Hermione toward the castle. "Just run! I'll be fine!"

"What the hell is going on?" Ron asked.

"He's a werewolf!" Hermione said, her own face rigid with fright. She was staring at Remus. Harry was staring at him, too. James turned to look and saw that it was far too late for the children to run.

Remus let out an inhuman wail. His hair was growing quickly and his eyes glowed yellow. His face was growing longer as his fingernails grew into cruel-looking claws.

"Run!" James said again, but the children stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed with fear.

Remus stood before them, a werewolf. Then Sirius and James were changing as well. James was growing larger and Sirius smaller. Sirius's face was elongating just as Remus's had a moment before. Black hair was sprouting all over his body. In seconds, he had become a black dog. Meanwhile, James appeared to be growing horns. He soon turned into a stag. The werewolf lunged for Harry and James was there in an instant, tossing him with his antlers.

The werewolf yelped and rose to his feet again quickly, jumping this time on Sirius. There was a frantic moment of claws and teeth, and the werewolf began to retreat. Then James was on him again. He made an awful sound as the werewolf jumped on him, leaving deep gouges in James's right flank. Bright red blood began to pour out of them in rivulets. The werewolf attacked again, lunging this time for James's throat. James jerked away and the claws caught him in the chest. Then Sirius re-entered the fray. The two animagi slowly herded the werewolf into the forest. Sirius continued in pursuit as the werewolf tried to run away from him, but James collapsed near the edge of the forest and changed back into himself.

"You reckon it's safe to go help him?" Ron asked.

"I don't care. I'm going!" Harry said, running toward James.

"Why didn't you tell us your dad was an animagus?" Hermione asked.

"Because I didn't know," Harry replied as he arrived at James's side.

"Harry, you should go inside. It's not safe out here," James said weakly.

"I couldn't just leave you here," Harry told him. He looked awful. His robes were torn and bloody. Blood was beginning to pool beneath him.

James tried again. "I don't think I can walk just yet. Maybe you should leave me here and go ask Madame Pomfrey for help."

"What if the werewolf comes back?"

"Padfoot has been handling him for years. I think he can manage a little while longer."

"So, that's where your nicknames came from?" Harry exclaimed.

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," James said. A moment later he passed out.

"You two should go get Madame Pomfrey. I'll stay here with him."

"No, we won't leave you," Hermione said.

"Okay, then one of you go," Harry ordered, exasperated.

Hermione and Ron looked at one another skeptically. "I'll go," Ron finally said, his voice soft and frightened.

"Thanks Ron," Harry responded gratefully.

"Do you think he'll be all right?" Harry asked when Ron had gone.

"I think so. He just got scratched up. He'll be fine." Hermione said, hoping she sounded more sure than she felt. She wasn't sure how much blood a man could afford to lose, but she knew that James was losing a lot of it very quickly.

"We should try to stop the bleeding. He uses a spell for that, but I don't know what it is!" Harry said, his voice rising with panic.

"We're supposed to put pressure on the wound," Hermione said knowingly. She used a severing charm to cut a swatch of fabric off the bottom of James's robes. "Here, tie this on his leg. As tight as you can."

Harry did as he was told, working as quickly as his shaky fingers would allow. In the forest, a wolf howled. Harry hoped it wasn't Remus. If he came back now, they would all be killed. Hermione handed Harry another piece of fabric. "Use this to cover his chest, and put as much pressure on it as you can. Harry obeyed again, leaning so hard into James's chest that he was afraid his ribs would crack. The color was draining out of James's face, and his lips were turning blue.

"That's all we can do for him for now," Hermione said, pressing on the gashes on James's leg.

"I wish they would hurry," Harry said, swallowing down the waves of nausea that gripped him. He could almost feel the pulse of James's heart beneath his hand as his lifeblood flowed out of him and into the mud.

Harry saw something moving out of the corner of his eye. He sighed in relief. Madame Pomfrey had come, but when he looked up, he saw not Madame Pomfrey, but dementors. They were flooding the grounds. He would never be able to fight them all.

"Oh, no," Harry groaned as the familiar cold overtook him. He tried to summon the happiest thought he could, but with his father lying on the ground dying, he couldn't find anything to be happy about. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" He shouted. His wand produced a small amount of vapor.

"Harry," Hermione said warily, edging close to him. The dementors were coming closer. Harry tried again and produced nothing but vapor. He tried a third time and a fourth. The darkness was closing in on him. The dementors were going to win, James was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. One of the dementors stepped toward him and lowered its hood. Harry fought the urge to scream as he saw what was underneath. Two scabbed over eyes and a large, gaping mouth inside a rotting face. The dementor descended on James.

"Get away from him," Harry shouted, his voice sounding far away. The dementor turned on him. Harry closed his eyes. He was going to be kissed, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He would never see Cho again. He would never see Ginny again.

Ginny.

An image of the look on Ginny's face when she saw him in the Chamber of Secrets flooded into Harry's memory, warming him. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" He shouted. He immediately knew that it had worked. He felt the power behind the spell. He watched in awe as his patronus charged the dementor that was only inches from his face. Then it began prancing majestically in a circle around the trio. The dementors fled from it.

"Harry, that was amazing! How did you do it?" Hermione asked.

"I-I don't know. I just knew I could." Harry stuttered, beginning to shiver.

Another Patronus came charging toward them, driving off the remaining dementors. Madame Pomfrey came running up behind it, with Ron on her heels. She put her wand to James's chest and the blood flow slowed. She conjured a stretcher and levitated James onto it. The stretcher levitated itself in front of her.

"Can you walk?" She asked Harry and Hermione.

Hermione nodded and Harry stood in response.

"Are you hurt? You're both covered in blood."

"It's all his," Harry said, motioning to James. His voice cracked with emotion, and he cleared his throat.

"I'll get him sorted out. Don't you worry about a thing," Madame Pomfrey said, patting Harry on the arm. "Dementors on the grounds. What were they thinking?" She began muttering. "Come with me, I want to check all of you out."

"We're fine," Harry assured her. "Just take good care of my dad."

"I'll decide who's fine and who isn't," she said sternly. Then she softened. "Oh, you poor dears. Dementors. Honestly."

She levitated the stretcher in front of her. Harry and his friends walked behind. Harry couldn't take his eyes off James's face. His lips were still blue.

In the Hospital Wing, Pomfrey immediately grabbed a blood red potion and brought it to James's bedside.

"What is that?" Harry asked.

"Blood Replenishing Potion," Pomfrey replied. "Weasley, would you go look on my desk. There's some chocolate in there. Give some to your friends, and take some for yourself as well." Ron nodded and obeyed. Harry watched as Pomfrey poured the potion down James's throat. The reaction was almost immediate: color returned to his face and his lips slowly turned purple and then pink. Harry sighed audibly.

"He's going to be just fine. Don't you worry about a thing," Pomfrey said, patting Harry on the shoulder. Harry nodded, blinking back tears. He shook his head. He couldn't figure out why he should be fighting tears now, when the crisis was past. Ron had come to give him the chocolate and was staring at him. Hermione was staring at him as well. Their sympathetic looks were not helping him in his quest to rid his eyes of teardrops. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, willing the tears away. When he was sure he could speak without a waver in his voice, he opened his eyes again. Madame Pomfrey was still working over James, but already he looked much better.

"You should lie down," Madame Pomfrey told him. "All three of you," she said, turning her gaze on Ron and Hermione.

"I feel fine," Harry told her.

She gave him a look that said clearly she did not wish to be argued with, and Harry lay down obediently.

"Eat the chocolate," Madame Pomfrey ordered. Harry ate it obligingly as Madame Pomfrey came to examine him. "A touch of exhaustion. You'll need a sleeping potion."

"I don't need a sleeping potion. I keep telling you I'm fine," Harry protested.

"I'm the healer here, young man. I'll be the one to decide when you're fine and when you need a sleeping potion," she told him sternly.

"Can I at least go wash?" Harry asked irritably.

Just then the door opened and Dumbledore came in. "Madame, would you excuse us for a moment," Dumbledore said, smiling serenely.

"I haven't checked everyone yet," she said. Hermione and Ron quickly assured her they were right as rain. Seeing she was outnumbered, Madame Pomfrey walked away muttering about dementors.

"I thought you three would be interested to know that Pettigrew is safely in custody. With the help of some veritaserum, he confessed how he broke out. Turns out it was a simple case of negligence on the part of one of the prison guards. Professor McGonagall managed to convince Fudge to hold off on allowing him to be kissed until he can have a proper trial. She had quite a few things to say about it, actually. You have done well tonight. I am honored to have the three of you in my school."

Harry felt his face grow hot, and he looked down at the floor.

"We didn't do anything much," Harry said.

"The way I heard it, you showed a man mercy tonight, despite the fact that he had hurt you and your family. Not many would have done the same, Harry. You are truly a remarkable person."

"Isn't he?" James asked from his bed. Harry turned to look at him. He was still paler than Harry liked, but he was awake, and he was smiling. Harry rushed to the bed and bent down to hug him. James winced. "Gently, please," he said softly.

"Sorry," Harry said. "Only I was worried about you. I thought you might die waiting for Madame Pomfrey to come. And then the dementors attacked us, and I thought they were going to kiss you. And if I had run when you said, none of it ever would have happened. It's all my fault. I'm sorry, Dad. I'm so sorry." The words poured out of Harry quickly, and he found himself once again fighting back emotion.

"Harry, this wasn't your fault," James said, reaching out to put his hand on Harry's. "You are forbidden from blaming yourself. You couldn't have... wait a minute. Dementors attacked us?"

"That was the other thing," Dumbledore added. "The dementors have been banished back to Azkaban. Even Fudge himself never thought the dementors would attempt the kiss on two innocent children and an auror."

"I think maybe I need to hear this story from the beginning," James said weakly.

"Yes, I think I'd like to hear it as well," Dumbledore said, seating himself on an empty bed. He put his hands in his lap and looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry told the whole story, barely taking his eyes off James's pale face as he did so.

"I will never understand how you manage to find so much trouble," James said, shaking his head slowly.

"It finds me. Trelawney would probably say it's my destiny."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I won't say I don't believe in prophecy, because I've seen a few come true in my day, but you'll want to be careful about putting too much stock in things like lifelines and crystal balls."

"Oh, I don't," Harry said. "I don't think Trelawney's ever made a proper prediction in all her life."

"Well, I should be going," Dumbledore said suddenly, rising to his feet. "Having someone to fret over makes Poppy so very happy. I'd hate to keep her from it much longer." And with that, Dumbledore strode purposefully from the room. Madame Pomfrey rushed toward them a moment later and ordered Harry and his friends to go wash and change. When they returned, James was asleep.

"Hermione," Harry asked, sitting on the bed. "How did you know Remus was a werewolf?"

"I worked it out after Snape set the essay. How long have you known?"

"Since Christmas. Remus told me. I couldn't believe I'd never put it together before."

"Well, why didn't either of you bother to tell me?" Ron asked.

"I was sworn to secrecy," Harry explained.

"Everyone knows that when you get sworn to secrecy you're allowed to tell your best mate! Those are the rules!"

"I've never heard those rules," said Hermione.

"There you have it," Harry said, smiling. "Hermione knows all the rules. If she's never heard of them, they must not exist. You can't tell anyone. Either of you. He would get sacked if anyone knew."

"Of course we won't tell anyone," Hermione quickly assured him. They both looked expectantly at Ron.

"I won't tell. He's the best Defense professor we've ever had. Only I wish someone had told me. I think I would like to have known there was a werewolf running about on the loose."

"Why? What could you have done about it?" Harry asked.

"Well, I certainly wouldn't have gone wandering around so much!" Ron replied.

"Yes, you would. You never could resist a little nighttime wandering," Hermione said smiling.

"All right, you win," Ron begrudgingly conceded. "But you still should have told me."

Herry shrugged, recognizing a lost cause when he saw one. Madame Pomfrey appeared at that moment and forced Harry, Ron, and Hermione to drink sleeping potions. Now that he knew his father was going to be all right, Harry didn't mind it so much.


	34. Home Again

When Harry woke up the next morning, Sirius and Remus were both perched on James's bed. James was still asleep.

"Good morning," Harry said, sitting up in the bed and yawning.

"Morning, Pronglet," Sirius greeted him cheerfully. "Glad you're finally awake. We were starting to think you'd gone into a coma."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "How is he?"

"He's fine. You only missed seeing him awake by about ten minutes. Madame Pomfrey's just been by to pour a sleeping draught down his throat. He kicked up quite a fuss about it, but he's no match for her."

"How are you feeling, Remus?"

"A little overwhelmed," Remus admitted. "I've decided to resign."

"No, you can't do that!" Harry protested. "You're the best Defense Professor we've ever had!"

"It's not safe for me to be here," Remus said sadly. "I attacked my best mate last night. I tried to attack you. I could have hurt someone. I did hurt someone!" He motioned to James.

"It wasn't your fault," Sirius said quickly.

"I can't risk something like that happening again."

"But you've got the potion," Harry argued.

"It doesn't do me any good if I forget to take it," Remus said matter-of-factly. "I've made up my mind."

"But I don't want you to leave," Harry said, aware that he sounded very childish as he did so.

"That's very kind of you to say, Harry, but I believe it's for the best."

Ginny Weasley appeared just then. Harry's face lit up. "Ginny!" He said. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to be sure you were all right," she said. "Ron and Hermione came down to breakfast this morning, but you never did, so I thought I'd check in on you. Hello, professors." She gave a small wave to the Marauders.

"Hello," they both said back. Harry suddenly wished they weren't there. Ginny came over to Harry's bed and sat at the foot. "You're all right, then?" She asked.

Harry nodded. "Fine."

"And your dad? How's he?"

"He's going to be fine," Harry informed her.

"Everyone's saying you fought off about a hundred dementors all by yourself."

"It wasn't that many," Harry said, blushing.

"How did you manage it?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "All I could think about was how if I were kissed I'd never see you again."

Harry felt his face grow hot as soon as the words left his mouth. He had never meant to say that. His eyes went wide for a moment, and he stared, agape, at Ginny. She stared back, then a smile spread across her face.

"Well, I think I had better be going," Remus said quickly. "I should be packing."

"I think I'll help you," Sirius said, just as quickly. They made a swift exit.

"Me?" She asked when they had gone.

"Yes, you," Harry told her. "Cho's nice and all, but she's not... well, she's not you. I know you said you already fancy someone, but since he's got a girlfriend, I thought maybe you could give me a chance. We can have picnics every day if you like."

Ginny laughed. "The person I fancied was you, Harry."

"Me?"

"Yes, you idiot. It was always you."

"Oh," Harry said stupidly. "Oh, I am an idiot."

"Am I interrupting?" Cho's voice asked from the doorway.

"No, not at all," Ginny said quickly. "I was just leaving." She smiled once more at Harry and then walked out the door, giving Cho a sympathetic smile as they passed one another.

"What was that about?" Cho asked.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly. "Listen, Cho, we need to talk."

A few minutes later, Cho was fleeing the hospital wing in tears, and Harry knew he should have felt about three inches tall, but he was filled with far too much joy. Ginny was the prettiest girl in school, and she could probably have any boy she wanted, but she wanted him.

At lunch, Ginny sat next to Harry. They were both trying to be casual, but they sat a little too close and glanced at one another a little too often. Once, they both reached for the same bowl and both jerked their hands away as though they had been burned. Then they both dropped their gazes and glanced at one another, blushing.

"What is with you two?" Ron asked, grabbing for the bowl they had just abandoned.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly. He knew he would have to be very delicate in the way he broke this news to Ron.

"They're in luuuurve," Fred said. Ron dropped the bowl, creating a huge mess. Harry sighed. So much for delicate.

"You moron!" Hermione snapped at Fred. "They might not want it blabbed over the whole school!"

"You knew about this?" Ron asked, rounding on her.

"Well, it was kind of obvious," Hermione explained. "And Cho's been glaring at them and crying the whole meal. You didn't tell her about Ginny, did you?"

"No, I just told her we weren't working out."

"Well, she may have already figured it out. You two aren't being exactly discreet."

"We're not?" Harry asked.

"Not in the slightest," George informed him. "I bet the whole school already knows. Well, except for Ronald, here, and he's always been a touch oblivious."

"I am not!" Ron protested. Then he rounded on Harry. "And just where do you get off liking my sister?"

"Oh, shut it, Ron," Fred said. "You don't get to say who she can and can't date. She's been in love with Harry since she was four."

"Fred!" Ginny scolded. "Why don't you just shout it out for all of Scotland to hear?"

"That's not a bad idea," George said, rising. Ginny quickly reached an arm up and pulled him back down. "You do, and I'll make sure you have so many bat-bogeys following you around you spend the rest of your life covered in snot."

"On second thought, I think this should be a secret," George retreated quickly.

Harry looked at Ron expectantly. Ron pursed his lips, but then nodded curtly. "But if you hurt her, I'll curse you into the next century," Ron warned.

Harry nodded his understanding, and they all returned to their meal.

When lunch was almost finished, Harry wandered up to the staff table to speak to Sirius. "Is my dad still in the hospital wing?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid so, although he's doing much better."

"So, should I ride the train, or stay here?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. What would you like to do?"

"Ride the train with my friends," Harry admitted.

"I think that can be arranged. Go ahead and ride it. I'll come meet you in London and bring you back here if he's still here."

"That's a lot of work for you, though," Harry said sheepishly.

"I don't mind. At least it'll give me a break from grading. Maybe we can even stop into Diagon Alley for a bit. I could use some new robes."

"Thanks Sirius," Harry said, smiling. Then he ran off to join the throng of students heading for the horseless carriages that would take them to the train. He quickly found Ron and Hermione and climbed into a carriage with them.

"You look exhausted," Harry told Hermione.

"I am," she confessed. "I spoke to McGonagall this morning. I've decided to drop Muggle Studies. That'll make my schedule more manageable, and I won't have any conflicts next term."

"Yes, Harry and I have been dying to know all year how you were managing that," Ron said.

"Well, I was sort of forbidden to tell, but now that I'm not going to be using it anymore, I suppose it couldn't hurt to tell you. I've been using a time-turner to do hours over."

"The ministry agreed to that?" Harry asked. He knew that a time-turner was a small device that allowed its owner to travel backward through time in hour intervals. The ministry controlled their use very strictly. Time travel could be quite dangerous.

"McGonagall said they took a lot of persuading. And I was sworn to secrecy, so you can't tell anyone."

"You know you can trust us," Harry assured her. "We won't tell."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "You can't grow up with Fred and George and not learn how to keep secrets."

The ride home went far too quickly for Harry. It always did, and it was even worse now that he knew he wouldn't be seeing Ginny as much. He felt silly worrying about something like that, but he couldn't help it.

"I'll miss you this summer," he told her as they pulled into King's Cross Station.

"We'll have to visit one another," she told him. "And I bet it goes by fast. It'll be September again before we know it."

"Absolutely," Harry agreed.

"Hello, Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley greeted him, pulling Ginny into a hug.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," Harry greeted her warmly.

"Where's your dad?" She asked.

"He had an accident last night. He's fine, but he couldn't come. Sirius is supposed to be here, but I don't see him. Oh, there he is."

Sirius was leaning casually against the wall, chatting easily with a pretty blonde witch who was blushing and giggling.

"How does he do that?" Ron asked Harry.

"I wish I knew," Harry admitted. He watched him, trying to study his movements.

"Harry, you'll have to come visit us this summer," Mrs. Weasley told him, snapping his attention away from Sirius. "I know Ron will want to see you."

"I'd love to," Harry said. "And you all have to come see me on my birthday."

"We wouldn't miss it," Molly said, reaching out to pat Harry's arm. "Well, come along, you lot. We'd best be getting home. Harry, give James my best and tell him I hope he feels better soon."

"I will," Harry promised. Then he made his way over to Sirius.

"Hello, Pronglet. How was the train ride?"

"Too short."

Sirius laughed. "It always is."

He said goodbye to the woman he was talking to and put his hand in his pocket. "I've brought a portkey that'll take us directly to the hospital wing whenever we're ready. Your dad's doing much better, by the way. Madame Pomfrey says he can go home tomorrow. He could probably go home now, but you know how she is."

Harry nodded knowingly. "Who was that woman?"

"One of your classmate's aunts. Her name's Margaret. She's not really my type, though. Too giggly. You feeling up to a trip to Diagon Alley?"

"I'd kind of like to see my dad," Harry said apologetically.

Sirius smiled. "I understand completely. Diagon Alley will be there another day. Shall we?"

Sirius held out a wooden spoon to Harry and Harry grasped it. Soon, he felt a hook behind his navel and was thrust forward. He landed hard in the hospital wing. James was awake and looking like his old self.

"She's never going to let me leave," James announced as soon as they arrived.

"Must be difficult being waited on hand and foot," Sirius said sympathetically.

"You don't know the half of it. She keeps treating me like an invalid when I'm perfectly fine."

"Hey, Dad, how come you never told me you're an animagus?" Harry asked suddenly. Sirius took a deep breath and cast a nonverbal silencing charm behind Harry's back. James saw it and smiled gratefully.

"Actually, I did tell you, but you were a blabbermouth," James explained. "Sirius used to transform and let you ride on his back when you were a toddler. You loved it. But then you went to school and you started telling your teachers all about being a wizard. Among other things we'd rather you not have shared, you told your teacher that your godfather could transform into a black dog and your father could become a horse."

"A horse?"

"Yes, I'm sorry to say you thought I was a horse. I suppose deer aren't readily identifiable to someone who's five. Although I would have thought the antlers would give it away. Anyway, we couldn't risk you telling that to the wrong people because, well, you see, we're not exactly registered, and being an unregistered animagus carries a minimum sentence of three years in Azkaban. And it would look awfully bad, me being a hotshot auror and all."

"Why didn't you just register?"

"Why didn't you tell anyone last year that you were hearing voices in the walls? Sometimes we feel oddly protective of our secrets. Besides, if we had gone to register, there would have been all sorts of uncomfortable questions. When we told the ministry about Pettigrew being unregistered, we had to think pretty quickly on our feet to keep from implicating ourselves. Showing up suddenly to register four years later... well, it wouldn't have taken a genius to figure it out. We didn't want to risk it. So I cast a memory charm on you."

Harry felt his temper rise. "You what?"

"I cast a memory charm on you."

Harry blinked rapidly. "What right did you have to cast a memory charm on me?" He asked indignantly.

"What right did you have to run around telling every muggle in town that we're wizards?"

"I was five!"

"That's precisely my point. Five-year-olds can't keep secrets."

"You still had no right to cast a memory charm on me!"

"Well, I can't change it now. Any you're not allowed to be cross with me. I'm an invalid here."

"You just said you're fine not two minutes ago," Harry snapped.

"Yes, but that was two minutes ago. Now I'm back to being an invalid. I was attacked by a werewolf you know. Right here." James pulled off his blankets and pointed to the bandages on his chest. Four thin lines of blood had soaked through.

Harry stared at the blood, his face turning pale. James looked confused and glanced down at the bandages. "Oh, dear," he said. throwing the blankets back over the bandages. "I didn't realize I'd soaked through. I'm sorry, Harry, you shouldn't have had to see that. Sirius, will you please go and tell Madame Pomfrey I need fresh bandages. I'm fine, Harry. Really. Madame Pomfrey says I'm healing nicely. She's going to let me go home in the morning."

"But you're still bleeding," Harry said weakly.

"Not like I was, and by tomorrow I'll be even better. Don't worry so much."

"I can't help it. I love you."

James smiled knowingly. "Now you know how I feel every time you go running off to rescue dragons and club mountain trolls and slay basilisks."

Harry shrugged. "You didn't even know about the dragon and the troll until afterward."

"No clouding the issue with facts, young man," James said, his voice stern, but his eyes twinkling.

Suddenly Harry laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"I just realized. All this time, I've been trying to figure out who told on me when I was out of the castle last term. Turns out I told on myself. I knew that stag looked familiar. So, is there anything else you've been keeping from me?"

"Not that I can think of. If I come up with anything, I'll be sure to let you know. Or not." James finished with a wink.

Madame Pomfrey appeared suddenly and ushered Harry and Sirius out. Harry spent the night in Sirius's guest bedroom. The next morning, James appeared at Sirius's door. He had a bag full of salves and bandages and reported that he'd been given a strict schedule for applying the salves and changing the bandages, but that he was healing nicely. "She thinks I may even get away without having any scars, although werewolf injuries are tricky."

"Would you mind it too much if you had scars?" Harry asked.

"Nah. It might make a good conversation piece. There aren't many people who take on a werewolf and live to tell about it."

"Not without becoming werewolves themselves," Sirius said darkly.

"Well, Harry, shall we go?"

Harry nodded and stepped into the floo. A few dizzying moments later, he was stepping into his own living room. James stepped out a few minutes behind him. He limped to the sofa and lay down upon it.

"It's good to be home," he said.

"Do you need anything?" Harry asked.

"No, I'm fine here for now, although I just might let you cook dinner."

"Do we have what we need for spaghetti? That's the only thing I know how to make."

"Spaghetti it is, then. I'll have to teach you to cook this summer. You can't go through your whole life eating nothing but spaghetti."

"Maybe I'll marry someone who can cook," Harry offered, flopping down in a chair.

"Maybe, but you don't want to count on it. If I hadn't known how to cook, Lily and I would have starved to death after we got married."

"She couldn't cook?" Harry asked.

"Not in the slightest. I think she could have burned water. She tried to make a roast once, and it was charred to a crisp on the outside and still bleeding on the inside. Gravy would see her coming and just give up and burn to the bottom of the pot. It was the oddest thing: she was so good at potions, better than anyone I knew, but add chicken into the mix and she didn't know what to do. Hey, turn on the wireless, would you? Ireland's playing today. If they win, they're going to the World Cup."

"That would be brilliant," Harry said, turning on the wireless and returning to his chair.

"You know, Harry, I've been thinking. Now that Pettigrew's been captured, we could use a holiday. How would you like to go to the Riviera?"

"The Riviera?" Harry repeated.

"Yes, I haven't been since I was a boy. My mother used to love it down there."

"I'd like that," Harry said.

"I'll talk to Scrimgeour about getting time off once I'm all healed up. I think he'll agree I've earned it."

"That sounds good. Wonderful, actually. Yes, we definitely need a holiday."

Harry and James listened to the rest of the match and cheered loudly when Ireland won. Harry smiled, thinking of Ginny and Ron listening to this same match in the Burrow and cheering as well. Maybe they could even have a World Cup party and listen to that game together. He had a holiday to look forward to, and next term he'd be able to join his friends in Hogsmeade. Yes, Harry decided, this was going to be a good summer. Things were finally looking up.

_The End._


End file.
